On Visiting An Alchemist in the Human Mountains and Not Finding Him

for Ed

Their howls conjoin to spray
where the waters enter darkness,
and petals bow before
the sublime structure of the cave.
Colors or deer emptily hover.

The moon's image ricochets
a hundred million times through
this forest you festooned
with mirrors, but no bell sounds
in the clearing of the wild bamboo
where you hunted jasper.

Where have you gone? Straight up?
Nobody knows where you have gone.
In this steep abode where I go looking,
I have leant against pine and wild image,
both which grow here.

When I asked your friend in the valley
at noon where you had gone, she said,
"Master's gone gathering balm in the
thick clouds of the mountain."