There is a snow white tiger that lives
in the Himalayan Hills; as beautiful & blissful
as an angel; red demons invading below
chasing the drone-king out of the land;
fat cockroaches filled w/ blood, spiral nests
burrowed into the old cottage walls
weaving combs of pink princesses like one
couldn't imagine; throttled & left behind;
from the visionary potter's wheel comes women in tribes
(my 49th de ja vu)
I have seen them from my hilltop hovel
where the young rugs are eating kibble-like manna;
this our Arctic ice shelter outfitted
w/ cool ice bar;
until the return of Dangun, quasi-quadruped
she hooves it over the hill & around the mountain,
Fuji screams---the lord's son returns
shield & sword in armored hand,
plate upon plate of bamboo;
thrilling to the end of the floating Edo world,
smartening up to be wiser than Confucius'
computer brains & bullet trains