Old bag of bones br upside down, br what are you searching for br in poetry, br in meditation? br br The mother you never had? br br The child in you br that you did not conceive? br br Death? br br Ease from fear of death? br br Revelation? br br Dwelling in the house of clouds br where you imagine br you once lived? br br 'Born alone, br we depart alone.' br Someone said that br during meditation br & I nearly wept. br br Oh melancholy lady br behind your clown face, br behind your wisecracks- br how heady it is br to let the ideas rush to your brain! br br But even upside down, br you are sad. br br Even upside down, br you think of your death. br Even upside down, br you curse the emptiness. br br Meditating br on the immobile lotus, br your mind takes flight br like a butterfly br & dabbles in bloodred poppies br & purple heather. br br Defying gravity, br defying death, br what makes you think br the body's riddle br is better solved br upside down? br br Blood rushes to your head br like images that come too fast br to write. br After a life held in the double grips br of gravity & time, br after a headfirst birth br out of your mother's bowels br & into the earth, br you practice for the next. br br You make your body light br so that in time, br feet first, br you will be born br into the sky.