the trail up the mountain
is lined with serpents  
hissing in strange beauty  
they lunge but do not strike  
not in dreams
I
w  a  l  k
p  a  s  t
t  h  e  m
I
avoid their fangs
for I do not trust
what the elders have said  
“in dreams none die,  
in dreams none die”  
though lost loves and my dead father still
speak    
in some language without the tongue  
revealing answers to questions not yet asked
yet
I do not trust those ageless words
“in dreams none die”  
though I know this is true
of snakes
of men
of fallen angels
whose wings were words
writ for eyes not yet closed
before dreams,
before the mountain
and the myth of blue sky