There waved tiny flags on vast unutterable silences of the mountains, in rain and fog and vague figures that hung heavily in clothed heads,in monkey’s glory whose eyes went over silky layers of a September sky surrounded by thin mists of confusion and intellect.
There sat a monkey god, himself a victim of confusion in a frosty silence ,abetted by a stony lack of clarity. Should I or should I not, kill demons and/or restore life to God’s swooning brother,by a medicinal mountain or smear myself in ocher, my eyes closed in a prayer as god- wife’s pearls turn rosary for prayer counting.
The flags fluttered in confusion on our many desires cancelling each other,the mountains rising over them. The gods now turned to quiet prayers as frosts fizzled down now and then,to a splendid sun emerging from the pines.