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by Richard Stevenson

In Tibet, they say,
some monks have a way
of creating creatures
out of thoughts.

Werewolves, big feet,
huge black dogs
with glowing red eyes –
whatever they desire.

The trouble occurs
when the whatever-in-fur
decides to step up
his or her own agenda.

How to get the genie
back in the bottle?
How to seduce
a tulpa into a trance

long enough to
dance him to
the end of desire,
put out the ego’s fire?

Aye, that’s the rub.
Don’t want no tulpa
drawin’ you a bath
just to drown you in yer tub.

Copyright © 2017 by Richard Stevenson

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