Sari Ellen Stiles writes:

Previously posted on alt.buddha.short.fat.guy (hey! I didn't name the
board...) possibly the result of an attack of the arthritis faery, late
night pizza, not enough sleep, and re-reading wtn at bedtime.

_Descent into Madness/Not Madness_

fatigued to the point
of physical anguish,
I crawl on to my futon
	pulling
the wool-batted quilt
	over
	my head.

Seems like
e  t  e  r  n  i  t  y

	tossing and turning
	turning and tossing
		f i n a l l y
		    to sleep

only to dream of terrors.

i dream of;	d
		a
		n
		g
		l
		i
		n   upside down
		g

like a pendulum of
	some Great Cosmic Clock...
		joints acheing and throbbing.

kidneys, liver, spleen
	seemingly
		beat to jelly.

d	
a
n	d
g	a
l	n	d
i	g	a
n	l	n
g	i	g
	n	l
	g	i
		n
		g

	in the belly of a 
		stone beast.

		demeaning speech in a 
			language with no Meaning,
					no Memory.

the edges of the world go grey,
then splashed with the ice water
	a parched throat so desires...


		the thirst is not the source of sorrow
			it is the desire for water...

still 	d
	a
	n
	g
	l
	i
	n	upside down
	g		greyness creeping in.


			eyes that regard me as a cockroack ask;
				"Why don't you just die?!"
				"because you are standing in the way."

it seems I see the angel Death standing behind him...

something loud and darkness.
then skyclad in an impossible landscape, but with a map.


i awake
	and find my
	aches from the day before
		are gone,
			for now at least.
Going into The World
	with a new sense of
				Devotion,

	with a new sense of 
				Purpose,

and
	a new sense
		 of
		Militant Compassion.


				(1994)