Remote but for its Buddha Soul

there'll be a body on the peak

at the god-for-end-of-the-world-saken edge

an axe bit in the palm of heaven sky

of the north burnt ridges never regrown

there'll be a body at the peak

heaving lungs catching blue clouds

old growth hairs sprouted from craggy frozen lids

in the heart of the distant ponds a titan eye

there'll be a body left at the peak

scratching out the days on calendar page

summer lightning flashes neon green skagit sores

in person the scorpion tattoo of the ranger folk

there'll be a body called the peak

remote but for its buddha soul

lost poems etched under volcanic bedrock

glacier set to score its immortal paths

there'll be a body on the peak

who featureless is lost to time

in caves of dark winters huddled in white fur

color lost shroud of the cascade range