A land far from Cold Mountain
though much the same
in a crooked shack
not quite as dark as
the kitchen at Kuo-ch’ing temple
I walk tenderly
barefoot over riprap trail
seeking the long way
turning my back upon
shortcuts
in a shack
windows white with
rain-cloud-sky
above many unseen
cold mountains
I am lost on a path
but smiling, conjuring
up great Ha, Ha laughter
knowing that all around
this earth
in word temples
of mind
are at work
wise men in rags
Jonas Lamb 