Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Final Signs



Final Signs


This morning
a large wind-working
bird of calm appeared,
turning and turning
in the sky I saw Everest.

The man at the blue
street drug store calmly repeated
his instructions against the traffic,
echoing details about the times
and frequencies 
for ingesting his colorful molecules.

As my intestines labored,
Supriya arrived at the penthouse door,
dressed in her mother’s clothes
and carrying two final kindnesses:
3 copper plates that whisper like birds
and a 10-meter swath of falling flowers.

Last night, the devil became
a calm and patient taxi driver
with a clear English accent. Steering us
deeper up the Patanian arteries
to our temporary heart.
The buddha-square on his dash board
should have reassured me from the start,
but taxi drivers are often the mythic beasts
placed in every conversation to embody
crime, greed and the abuse of innocence--
as though they are politicians within our midsts.

Just now, as we tilted through monsoon clouds
for a last glimpse of Patan,
a rainbow bounced off
the plane’s wing, an echo saying
something is complete while incomplete.



by jerry gordon
Kathmandu, Nepal
8.24.2013

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