and out of the alpine mists
a lone figure appeared

well, not lone, entirely, for
upon its graying and wind-blown head
rested a yellowish straw-sewn bird (?)
of some kind
didn't really get, you know, a very good look at it
running, as i was, for my life
but i did hear
in heated passing
as through that shadowy figure
i seemed to slip:

there's a mountain up ahead
made of smoky black glass
stone magic
you can-

speak up, **** you, i rejoined
i can't hear very well through
these woolen and aged
ears

if you try, it returned, barely louder,
you can really
SEE
through the ****** thing
don't ask me how
it just works
have a look, you'll see
for YOURSELF
miles away you can make out
things adistant
from where you stand

and so, arriving
finally
at the foot of it i
tried, fool that i am
leaning in close and squinting
****** idiot though i felt myself
to be
for the rock was rock and
SOLID
dark mineral regular ordinary
ROCK
nice try, i thought, beginning
to turn away

but then
just then
it worked, by god, through
the smoky black stone
i could
SEE
sure enough
miles afar and years away
there
among trees and hills and
bee-laden flower heads
there
i saw

you