Avalanche
where she runs
into black tarot night
crisp pain shot
faster than gazelles
through midnight's broken fields
with brutal mountain rising
and cold winds howling
it's jagged peaks above greenest valleys
Lhasa like purgatory rumbles with avalanche
and my mouth opens in awe at the things that pass for living
while she runs in snow covered caverns
and took flesh
took sound itself
into the silence of winter
angel thrashing and beating wings
white and pristine
avalanche
of dreams
extraordinary avalanche of purgatory
mountains
the dead silence of the wild winter broken
only by the wind,
bitter;
it caresses the last leaves that remain
as reminders
of death's splendant touch
three hundred times I sang
three hundred wings buried my song
three hundred knives loomed large and sharp
winds brought snow and tears
three hundred insane voices wrung into my ears
and deafness sank her teeth