At this thin occupancy
of bare thoughts
lies a possible
unattainment
under the star-pierced expanses
of my mind's wilderness;

a loosening
of the bolts of self-acclaimed habits
and big-mouthed necessities
steering me,
stale and bent,
on this wild ego's Mesquite rodeo

Perhaps a deeper breath rushes
through the atmosphere
of Lucien Stryk's renditions
of the Chinese Death Poems;

thrives in the after-thought
of the aftermath
of The Dalai Lama's hollering
laughter
and God's comic relief