"Awake!" laughed the monk, startling his assistant, his body watcher with his sudden return. "NYIMA, I am back! How are you?" The young man, thin and sickly-looking, smiled wistfully and said nothing. of course, he could not see me.

Much to the puzzlement of the other, Thubten Sengey addressed me, as if addressing the air. "Welcome to my abode! And this is Nyima, my most brilliant student!" That self-same student did not look very happy in being introduced to an invisible spirit which, obviously, his mentor had brought home. "Greet our guest," laughed the monk at the fellow's discomfort. "Tashi-de-ley," he said, lowering his head, rolling his eyes and sticking out a thin pink tongue in a traditional Tibetan greeting. "Tashi-de-ley," I replied. But he did not hear me.

* * *

Ring. Ring. Around the mountain, central axis of the universe. "Ring. Ring," went the telephone. Around, around, went the wheel; "Click click. Clickity-click." "Sun and moon," you thought, "the red and white, once a month." Index finger and thumb, twirling. A rainbow around the mountain. How is that possible? In the moonlight.

* * *

"Why doesn't anyone visit me?" asked the prisoner.

* * *

"The electric bills are tremendous," my brother said. "They're threatening to shut it off." I said nothing, looking at the flipping image of the television set. "It's impossible," he said. "It's thousands of dollars!" His girlfriend sipped from a glass of something which could have been ginger ale, or, for that matter, gin. She did not look at his face. "Do you still sub-let barns, back there?" I asked, nodding through the wall to the acres of buildings. "Only Phil," he answered, whispering suddenly so the visiting nurse could not hear. "But he doesn't use much electricity. Someone must be tapping into it. Can you go back there and look?"

Look? I asked myself, but aloud I said, "Yes. Yeah. Sure." Although I hadn't the slightest idea what I was looking for, I followed visible electric lines to one building after another. But I found nothing. Some buildings were padlocked, and peeking through cracks I saw nothing. They were empty. Others were wide open, full of old cars which belonged to my paralyzed brother.

"Nothing," I said to him. "Nothing." i did not mention the rusting ploughs, broken harvesters looking like something which should be valuable but had rusted to death. i did not mention looking at the eight-spoked gear and dropping it, nor watching it sink out of sight into the mud. I did not mention the sun-baked rubber girl-doll, the oneness of skin, dress and shoes cracked beyond belief.. its kupie-doll head missing. "Nothing," I reported.

* * *

Where is all the energy draining from? From that building, or that one? Church or city hall? Don;'t be silly. You're just a cynic. It couldn't be that. Just out of all of the bodies. It is amazing that no one notices. Yeah. It's just, it's just, how you talk about it' think about it; what you say. No. it isn't that simple. Whose children die in fires? On what streets? Park Avenue? Don't be a sap. Don't waste your breath.

KARMA-LA. KARMA-LA.

Don't hold it, either.

* * *

Geshe Sengey's student did not live long. I watched him die. The monk cared for him, but it was obvious that he knew that it was inevitable, that he could do nothing about it. When it finally happened, I was surprised by his reaction. he quickly entered the Nd-Drwa, leaving his room with two apparent corpses in it. he did not wail or begin prayers for the dead. Instead, he laughed at my sorrowful expression and shouted almost hysterically, "Be joyous! It is a grand opportunity! Something for which I have been waiting."

"You're crazy," I shouted at him, but he would not calm down. "Hurry!" he laughed, "before our chance vanishes." I shook my head, saying "I don't know what the hell you are talking about!" And I did not, indeed, know at all.

* * *

She pursed her lips like a kupie-doll, making a popping noise, but not opening her eyes. Moisture covered her entire body, matching mine. My eyes wandered to the open pages on a nearby table. I resisted looking at the words. Instead, I blew a strong exhalation at it, causing the pages to slowly flip over, one after another. This opened the book closer to the beginning of the words. "What are you puffing at?" she asked, opening her eyes. My eyes quickly shifted to hers. i smiled. "Just blowing away all thoughts." "Hmm," she said, not caring to understand, closing her eyes again, asking, "Do you have any more energy? I have lots." Her eyes opened wide. "Do you have any?" I laughed. "Unlimited," I said, "since you are the source of my energy." "That's funny," she said, squinting at me. "That is what I was going to say about you." I inhaled, shifting my legs between hers. A movement caught my eye. A page of the book had flipped itself slowly over. I focused on no words, even though they were there. Soon I forgot even this vision, becoming lost in breathing and whisperings, slow and fast. Energy soared through our bodies. Her back arched as she rose off the bed. Everything shook and trembled.

* * *

"What is your name?" he asked the young Tibetan woman. She shyly looked up at him, whispering, "Tsering." He smiled, loosening the sash on his chuba. "TSE," he said, touching her cheek with the tips of his index finger and thumb, "RING." Nodding, nodding, in approval, adding suddenly to her surprise, "la!" It was only an hour later that they became lovers.

"Sleepless am I," he then sang, in improvisation, "because of love." The words, and melody, continued into the night, but ended before sunlight struck the waters of the Dragon Lake, to the north, and at the base of the Potala Palace.

* * *

AH! AH! Circle, circle. Catch the complete circle of the rainbow. You saw the lightning in the mountains around Lhasa, but the thunder did not reach you. "Prajna without upaya," you said aloud, confusing your half-dozing tutor. "No, no," he said, half asleep. "Wisdom always comes with Method." You nodded but you thought, "Yes. Yeah. Sure."

* * *

Ayesha! Calm down! What are you excited about? Yes. The rinpoche is dead and the regent is keeping it a secret. yeah. I know. I told you that. So what? What? You say it is important? Fine, but not to me. Wrong? What do you mean wrong? You know where I am? Sure, me too. In Tibet. Yeah. More? What more? Hey! Don't get hysterical. It's too fantastic to tell me? Dammit! Tell me anyhow, now that you've started—What? What? i don't believe that! Ayesha, you're nuts. Ayesha! Wait! I'm sorry. Wait. Dammit! She's gone.

* * *

DRIP. DRIP.

In the prison infirmary.

"Will he live?" the nurse asked.

The doctor did not answer, looking at the clouds outside in the sky, gathering for a snowstorm.

* * *

Dai Goro Bogdu moved up. And he moved down. i could not move at all. The two mountains closed in around me, like two interpenetrating triangles.

* * *

"The Buddha's words are contradictory," I said to Geshe Sengey, pushing the looseleaf book on the table away from me. "You say it is the same, but every time I read or hear further words, they are different. " "NO," laughed the monk. "You are different. But do not the words have the ring of truth?" I looked at my hands, folded on my lap, nestled in the deep wine-colored fabric. "Sometimes," I mumbled, then glancing up at a scroll with a painted Buddha on it. "But it won't sit still! It contradicts itself!" "No," laughed the monk, glancing out the window at the rolling hills far away, at the glint of a lake. "It is all the same, like a mountain made of gold." I cocked an eyebrow at him. "A mountain of gold?" I asked. he shrugged, smiling. "A nugget of gold, if you like." Then pausing, "A lump of turquoise, if you like." I scratched my shaven head, and he continued. "It is like Buddha's word. it has a different shape from different views, but it is still the same gold." "Or turquoise stone," I interjected. "Or turquoise," he smiled.

* * *

They were in the courtyard, hundreds of them, going around in a great circle. That is when he was stabbed. No one knew who had done it. Or if they did, no one said anything. "I didn't see anything! Not me! Nothing."

* * *

"Grab Hold!" shouted Geshe Sengey. I was aghast. "You're crazy!" I shouted at the wild-eyed man. "He's dead! Dead!"

* * *

Drip. Drip. The garage roof leaked, but there were no cars in the vast dilapidated building. You kicked a wet magazine and stepped over a bundle of wet rags. It all smelled of dog piss. Drip. Drip.

* * *

Phil had to move. The landlord objected to the subletting of his buildings. Even with this development, the young man came every day to lift my brother out of his bed. His friend came at night to put him back. The visiting housekeeper came to feed him, five days a week. But his girlfriend did nothing but drink She hid it no longer. This state of affairs did not last long. For some unknown reason, Phil and his friend stopped coming to the apartment to help. He was left completely without help over the weekends. I did not know this. The next time I went to see him, he was gone. "He's gone!" she screamed. "What do you mean?" I asked, looking at the empty wheelchair. "Where the hell is he?" "Gone! Gone!" she cried, unwilling or incapable of saying anything else. ""Gone!"

* * *

Ayesha! Listen to me! Let's try again. Slowly, Ayesha. Tell me slowly. yes. Yeah. GYALWA RINPOCHE, the Dalai Lama. yes. Death a secret. yeah. Unfinished palace. Proves it? What? I'm sorry, go on. When I went to the astral realm I not only went to Tibet. Yeah. Okay. i did what? Come on. You sure? History, yeah, I know what history is. But—I also went, I moved in time? Back to the seventeenth century? I'm in the late seventeenth century in Tibet? Dammit! That's impossible. You're crazy! Ayesha! I can't get back? Tell me that its not true!

* * *

"Do as I say!" Geshe Sengey shouted. "It is your only chance!" "MY chance?" I asked. "Yes! If you want to have a body again!" "A body? A real body?" I asked, dazed. What was he saying? "Nyima!" he pointed at his student. "For a few minutes his body is available for you to enter!" I shook my head in disbelief. "But he just died. I'd be entering a dead body!" "Don't be foolish," he laughed. "That is the easiest kind of body to enter! Now do as I say. Make no mistake!" I was confused, but followed his directions, thinking all the while that it was a mistake. "What is the point?" I thought. "Enter his body through his head," instructed the monk. "The top of the head!" I moved in closer, positioning myself. "Once inside," he said, "you will clutch in the darkness, and grasp two hot ropelike forms with both hands." "Yes. Yeah," I nodded, moving inward. "Do not let go!" whispered Geshe Sengey, as I entered through the head. "Hold on! Hold fast!" In the darkness now, I grasped the hot shapes. Electricity jolted through me as if I were being electrocuted. the body clutched its teeth together, open and closed fingers, lifted itself off the floor so suddenly that it could have snapped its spine. Hands shook and feet quivered. "Uh. Uh. Hm!" "AH. Ahrrgh!" Breath was expelled forcibly and inhaled just as sharply. i heard a whispering. "NYIMA! NYIMA!" It was Geshe Sengey's voice.

I opened my eyes to see his face very close to mine. Above it I could see the ceiling of the room. "Nyima!" he laughed, touching my face with his index finger. i was still shaking when I snapped, "Dammit. I'm not Nyima! You know who I am!" The monk sat back and laughed. "Then why do you sound like him?" he asked. I already knew that what he was saying was true. My words were not in my own voice. My feet still quivered. I felt peculiarly confined. There was darkness and light, inside and outside. I was still adjusting. But the thought which rang loudly in my mind was "Am I in here alone or do I have company?"

* * *

Ayesha? The seventeenth century? How do you know? Research? The fifth Dalai Lama? The Potala Palace? But, but...yes. Yeah. Sure. I understand. Yeah. I guess. don't worry. Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Yes. Yeah. Sure.

* * *

My brother had been taken to another nursing home. The visiting nurses could readily see that he wasn't being cared for. On weekends, he could never get out or be taken out of his bed. he stayed wet and was not fed. They had to remove him. Luckily, this nursing home, an ex-schoolhouse made of brick, was closer than the last. When I visited him there he said, "There is no therapy here! I've got to get out of here!"

* * *

The victim of the knife wound died.

* * *

Piss.

* * *

Dai Goro Bogdu spoke, but I could not understand him. A little later, he spoke again, this time a question. "Do you prefer Krishna to Christ?" he asked. I laughed. "Don't be silly." "Or Buddha to Shiva?" he continued. "Why do you persist in these nonsensical questions?" I snapped at him. he laughed, glancing at the pale blue crescent mark on my arm. "What of ISHTAR? or KALI? or LHA MO?" he continued asking. Now he was puzzling me completely. "What?" I asked. "Who?" He frowned a moment, retreating into the darkness a short distance. From that place he called back. "If those are not to your liking, consider worshipping me!" And with that, laughing, he vanished. "Son of a bitch," I muttered.

* * *

Drip. Drip. Drip. The fluid moved slowly down the I.V. tube to his arm. There it met a blue-black bruise. AH! AH.

* * *

"Don't worship the filthy monk," the blue man said, his red-rimmed eyes flashing. i glared at him, but nodded in agreement nonetheless. "He is not worthy," his pale lips said, his red mouth revealed in the saying. i said nothing. Then in that new silence, he squinted, pushing his face forward. "You should kill him," he whispered intently, almost hypnotically. "Nailed to a tree?" I laughed. He sprang back. "Not like that!" His hands opened and closed, his fingertips glowing hot. Then he turned, in that room, and standing there in his naked blueness waved a hand at the hanging images. "You," he growled, "are not taking these mere images seriously are you? Have you been taken in by all those words? Four truths. Eightfold path? This siddhi, that magical power? Pah!" I smiled, fingering the mala, the rosary. "Care to give me an oral exam?" I asked. he stood, legs apart, both hands on his hips. I could see light coming through his body. "One question only," he snapped. "Answer this and I shall leave you forever!" Now those were words which caught my attention. "Oh?" I replied, without promising. he smiled, misunderstanding my response. "How many," he asked solemnly, "how many angels can stand upon a pin head?"

My uproarious laughter was not what he had expected. he became even more transparent. When I had calmed down, but was still choking with laughter, I gasped, "Where the hell did you get that old puzzle? Who have you been talking to?" Sullen, he did not reply. "It sounds like you've been talking to Christian theologians," I continued. However, he still did not answer. Instead, he faded quickly, revealing now completely the rectangle of light which had been behind him and which had finally obliterated his form. i scratched my head, wondering, "What is going on?"

* * *

In my thoughts, I went to the prison. I would bring the dead man back to life.

* * *

"But," I said to the monk, looking at my new hands which shook before my eyes, "did he die or not?" Geshe Sengey did not answer. "Is he still, still," I gasped, quivering, "still in here somewhere? Am I in here with someone else?" The monk remained quiet. "Dammit! Answer me! If he died and is gone...how long can this body last? It died for a reason! What was my—its—cause? Won't it happen again, immediately?" I was almost sobbing, confusedly happy and sad, at that moment, to have a body. "It will happen again," whispered the monk, to a sinking feeling in my heart. Oh? So soon? I had to die already? I had to leave this body? So soon?

* * *

"Look," my brother said to one of the nurse's aides, a husky blonde, "you're too smart to work in this place for peanuts." I sat nearby, half ignoring the words, looking up at a high window that misinterpreted the sky. I had just come in and I knew that outside the sky did not look like that. "You can take me home," he continued, "and I can give you my Social Security check. And..." She smiled at the paralyzed man, "That is so nice of you to want to move in with me," she said, fluffing up a pillow behind him in his wheelchair, "but I have a boyfriend who would object to a man lying around the house." "But I wouldn't do anything," he protested. "Yes," she nodded, leaving the room, "but you might watch." He called after her shaking hips, "I'd close my eyes," he said. "I wouldn't even look!" After she was gone he looked at me, his eyes growing sad. "Oh well," he said.

Out the high window, it looked like snow, although I knew the sky was blue.

* * *

Trapped between the two mountains, jammed in the middle of a white star of David, I felt no pressure at first. Then, there was a flow of a liquid, no, a wind. The wind was on fire and the fire was consuming itself, producing a great running bolt of lightning which ran around the edges, and in and out. Thus far, it had avoided me directly, but its movements created other almost unbearable densities. Dai Goro Bogdu's voice was in that pressure. "You will obey! I will lock you within forever!" It was then that I thought of King Solomon and his seal. "This is that seal!" I gasped. "He is looking me in, like a Jinn in a bottle!"

* * *

"Around the mountain, as steady as the sun and moon. Thus shall be our love." That is what he sang. That is what you sang.



* * *

"I'm still alive," I said, awakening after a restless sleep. The image of the Buddha sat upon an image of a throne on a rectangle of cloth, otherwise the room was empty. i sat up, weakly on one elbow. Geshe Sengey entered the room and glared at me. After a moment, he asked, "Are you Nyima?" I held up a quivering hand and smiled. 'i think this is Nyima's hand," I answered. "But are you Nyima?" he snapped, frowning. I was startled by his tone. "No," I answered in that strange voice caused by the vocal chords, "I am only in his body. I am not Nyima." He squinted, as if trying to pierce my flesh and look within. "Not one bit," he whispered. "Not one filament of Nyima?" I rolled my eyes into my skull, almost swooning. It was as if I were searching within for another being. "No," I finally answered, catching myself, struggling to stay conscious, feeling feverish, "I am here alone. Nobody..." He turned and began to leave the room in apparent anger and disappointment. i tried to shout after him, but a cracked voice spoke instead. "Nobody in here but..." and the rest faded into a whisper. I smiled, and fell back. Flashes of light ran across my vision. I laughed to myself, thinking of the monk's reaction if he had heard the sentence completed. "Nobody," I had said, lapsing into a whisper, "in here but us chickens." I fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

But were the words true? To tell the truth, they were true. The pages of the book flipped from the movement of air. Individually, each word existed in primordial actuality. What? What are you saying? What a joke! What a sentence! That's where the trouble was, stringing them together made them a lie! You're crazy! You can't have one word sentences. No? Yes. You idiot. Idiot!

* * *

"Geshe-la," I had said, sometime after entering Nyima's body, "this Dharma, the law of the Buddha, is like the Buddha himself." He cocked an eyebrow at me and asked. "And what is the Buddha?" I answered without hesitation "The Buddha is a pile of yak dung!" He made a slight smile. "You must be careful," he said, and as he did so, I braced myself for a tongue-lashing, "When you say that," he continued, "you must remember that it is dried yak dung."

* * *

"Why have you painted the room yellow?" he asked. You remember? The man bowed, and left. You grew annoyed. He remembers. "Are you not the great...?" she began. "No!" he snapped. Don't you remember?

* * *

Drip. Drip. Water splashed upon the written word and the ink began to dissolve. Eyes watched this. Lips began to sing, "...may dissolve the black spots of written words..." Other eyes looked up, as if inhaling and exhaling.

* * *

"We must kill him," the monk said. "How?" the shadow asked. The other shifted restlessly, his hands opening and closing on his lap as if grasping an unseen object, as if counting the beads of a mala which he dared not remove from his wrist. "When they are returning from the tavern at Sho," he finally answered. And with that, he flipped the loop of strung beads onto his lap and began to count them with index finger and thumb. "AUM MANI PADME HUM.' Index finger and thumb.

* * *

"See if Phil can sell some of the cars," he had said. But Phil was gone, and when I investigated, the cars were gone. He had taken this news stoically, but not so the death of his girlfriend. "Blood vessels in her esophagus burst and they couldn't stop the bleeding," he had told me, calmly enough at first. "She just drank so much!" His eyes filled with tears. His hands in his lap quivered. "She wasn't very smart," he paused, looking at the doorway. "She drank so much. But," getting angry, "They could have saved her! They just didn't want to. they didn't think she was worth it!" His voice was choked and tears ran down his face. No wind blew them sideways. They went straight down. "And she," he sobbed, "was so afraid that they, that they, would attach those electrodes again, again!"

Her daughter visited him and he gave her instructions to empty the garage apartment, to keep what she wished, to sell the rest. There was not going back there. "In the basement room," he told her, "there is my beautiful billiard table. You can get a lot for that for me. Okay?" "Yes," she said, "I know someone who will buy it. Yes. Yeah." I watched and listened, staying out of it. No money ever came back from the billiard table. "You can have whatever you want," he said to me. I nodded. "Yes, Yeah. Sure." I said, but I wanted nothing. Nothing.

* * *

They waited at the back of the Potala Palace. Only once did they speak. "It should not be difficult," the words said, "for they will have been wenching and drinking." Darkness covered their presence.

* * *

The prisoner could not be revived. i do not know why. I thought, I thought, that perhaps it was because it was too late. But it also could have been too early. Dammit! There is not way to talk about it. Words don't apply here!

* * *

"Oh God. What is it? I don't know."

Dai Goro Bogdu interrupted. "Aha! You call upon a God, after all," he said. I scowled at him. "It's only an expression," I said. "It doesn't mean anything." He closed his eyes and picked at a tooth with the long nail of his right hand's index finger. "You," he finally said, "are very careless. You do not use words wisely at all!" "Apparently," I said glumly, "but I don't waste them asking about how many celestial chickens can dance upon a pinhead!" "Chickens?" he retorted. "What do you mean chickens?" "Chickens, ducks," I laughed, "what does it matter? Why don't you ask real questions?" His eyes blazed. "Such as?" he asked. "Such as," I snapped, "if God exists, why does he allow such suffering?"

Dai Goro Bogdu smiled a tight smile. "That is an example of his infinite mercy." "Damn you!" I said. "You're such a pisser! Our suffering shows his mercy?" The blue man laughed, moving away, as if to get beyond my range of attack. "Suffering," he whispered gently, "is what makes you conscious, is what makes you human. Suffering brings you beauty and truth!" He waved his arms widely about his body as if he were an actor upon some stage. He looked upwards. "Suffering opens you to godlike qualities." I was angry. "Suffering destroys humanity," I growled, "plunges it into depravity and beastiality. suffering confuses and destroys intellect and reason!" "Perhaps that too," he laughed, "but what do you expect of godliness? Just look at the sunrise and sunset, and being aware of it, appreciate it!"

I was furious. "I spit upon that sunrise," I cried out, "if it is built upon the suffering of little children. I curse the god of such a world. I deny his existential existence." "That heavy curse may define your existence!" the blue man said. "Then never let it be light!" I shouted. "He will get no praise from me." "If he existed," laughed Dai Goro Bogdu, "he would not like that!" I was breathing heavily, my eyes felt hot. "If he existed," I said flatly, "I would kill him."

"Ho Ho!" laughed the other. "Big little man, are you not? But then that killing of your gods is old business for you humans, is it not?" I became silent, staring at him. My anger subsided. "Perhaps," I said, "it is time to put an end to this god business wherever it is. Perhaps it just feeds upon us and breeds further and further pain, no matter where it exists." He pursed his white lips, his blue eyes almost popping. "That sounds," he said, "as if you wish also to kill me!" "Yes. Yeah. Sure," I nodded, my hands shaking, my fingers dropping sparks. "Very noble," he laughed, flames rising form his shoulders like great wings. "But I shall not let you!" I did not answer, and his fire wings went up for miles. "For you are deluded. You don't wish to kill all gods. You merely wish to become one."

I was going to protest when he continued. "And then," he laughed, "and then, you would kill us all, so that only you would remain. The one true god!" I was startled by his words. He wrapped himself into his flaming wings and was suddenly gone. Speechless, I stared at the emptiness. I knew that what he was saying was true. I shivered and I shook.