They're back, the migrators!
a huge black wave
which rolls across an incredulous sky
the clouds stop to see
someone of them makes comments aloud
(there's always a malevolent conventional)
while
strident
coils of living smoke
wrap themselves northward;
maybe
very very far away
unimmaginated
unimmaginable
at some undefined latitude
between Samarkanda and Tashkent
an athletic old man with a very long beard
a white white white beard
the snow on Christmas morning
a wedding tulle dress
leans on a a rake while burning
whitered leaves at some great fire
of Life: and since there it's really hot
he wipes off his brow a drop of sweat,
and then he curses himself
(in Sanscrite, obviously),
and bursts into a laughter.
the creep mountains laugh too
virgin, blue echoes.