A Poem About a Book

                                    for pm 

stone

summits

silence

jewel of the lotus

grateful i am

to you to have

brought them here

even when they're not

imagining junipers

as i am

with small berries

with tufts of clinging

blue sheep's wool

after your journal

i feel the gray mist rising

over glacial fields

knowing i cannot last

your publisher prints

later editions of your book

with bracket years set

below the author's name

page turners arrive

in a gray procession

e-readers transcribe

the words you stumbled

upon to describe

what you uncovered

and yet

i will not

journey to find

what you left behind

difficult as it is

for me to stray

from the path

to which i cleave

to believe some or all

of what i read

and what of jang-bu

and tukten and dawa

and the unrecorded

sherpas and porters

who carried your freedom

up and down for

nepalese

rupees

whose

passing goes through

rising mountains

white with

ambient light

next to melting tracks

of snow leopards

who depart

as you recorded

forever

unseen