Lyric Dao of an Asian
Mountain Recluse
-for John St. Andre,
with nods to many dakini poets
No longer drawn to lush. Less
to Rumi or Mirabai. Finding myself
nearing the end, wild about spare
Though, of course, at times ecstatic
Tantric. Whirling one’s hair.
Embedded in the all-embracing feminine
But I’ve ranted at Pops. Taken my Zen
shots at Tooth-Mother naked
feverish & koyaanisqatsi
Aging, it's time to savor tanka
&, at last, a homeopathic dose of
mystery’sTaoist antidotes
Mystical yet evocative...
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