you cannot send a promise from the top
       of a mountain stream to its furthest
       point downstream where it meets

the rascalled dream punctured by pin-
       holes of lacerated poems     read 
       those and surely the tread of

your wizardry will woe down with the 
       sewers of hazard     turn now & stop
       it's time to rein in mountainspeak -

once trust wavers, the hold of mountains
      is water     touch the droplets and
      memory will hold no torch for you

to laugh your poems away    to torch those
      words, you need the hunger of 
      ancients and the foul breath that

lingers as sainthood comes crushing
      down     these poems are not to
      be trusted, mountainspeak be damned -