Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

"She's Coming down the Mountain"

Coming down the mountain with eleventy-five ridges

It seems only days ago when I climbed, scattering
stones and dust; who followed did not concern me,
but the game ‘s over now, and I search
up and down and around the cliffs of the mind.

Coming down the mountain with eleventy-five ridges
I walk fast along winding streams, carrying pebbles
and ten thousand dreams, yet I linger by one broken tree
among a line of pines, like men with guns and a false promise.

Coming down the mountain with eleventy-five ridges
However remote from the depths, I see a flower
half buried in rock, its doggedness daring gods,
as spunk lifts it up to the light.

Coming down the mountain with eleventy-five ridges
feet bandaged, plastered, healing, I dance like a clown
leaving at the top, triflings and crows of sorrows
and one hundred fifteen crags, in cryptic numbers.

I'm coming down the mountain with eleventy-five ridges.


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Prompt: Eleventy-five: is it a real number?
eleventy = (slang) 110