Now if there is time and the trees grow straight
enough, we can play a game of Look Up and See!
If we lose we’ll draw fire from the angels and
the dakinis will enjoy a good laugh. Tricks and

applause are hardly necessary, a bowl of fruit
is nearby, plenty to eat and nourish us. Removing
our clothing, we encounter something unintelligible:
our skin falls off, our bones like dust, our blood thin

as water, our heart an old cereal box. What has happened
is not clear. There was no potion to drink, nor any magic
spells to speak of. Perhaps some dream sequence in
an endgame movie twist, but that would require waking

up to an illuminating history, which hasn’t occurred. If
fate is to be trusted, then I’m a farmer in Illinois, tilling
the soil and making allowances for heavy rainfall, each
drop a testament to the power of gentle supplication.

DB 2009