
After stints in Berkeley, Seattle, New York, Houston, Kathmandu, and the Himalayas, Marilyn Stablein now lives in the bosque with a resident skunk, as of yesterday two porcupines in one of the twenty-three cottonwood trees outback, and bookseller husband Gary of
Acequia Booksellers on 4th St. NW. Her last three books are
Sleeping in Caves: A Sixties Himalayan Memoir;
Night Travels to Tibet, and
Climate of Extremes: Landscape and Imagination. Her assemblages, artist books, and collages have been exhibited internationally. Mixed media performances include: AutoText: Poems, Bullhorns, Streets; Sacred Waters and on Day of the Dead, Bardo Passages: Soul Journey to Tibet. (Pictured below: "Spirit Box," assemblage by Marilyn Stablein.)
White Train
A white train moves
through the night
in my country
ladened with its death cargo
of nuclear bombs.
Monks and nuns

lie down on the tracks
to block passage.
Soon they are arrested,
jailed, and the train continues.
To wish death for others,
to sell or transport bombs
and nuclear weapons
is not right. To wish
or bring death
to oneself can be
a sacrament,
a holy offering.
A white train moves
through my mind
like a white train of thought.
White dotted lines
in the middle of paved roads.
The whiteness of things:
of death, pale ghosts, and shrouds.
Ashes, white bones, pallid faces,
shells, beaches, gulls, and
veils. The whiteness of eggs,
milk, coconut, and rice.
The whiteness of candles,
fireflies, stars
in the Milky Way.
The white of a moon’s face
and beams. White birds
clouds, elephants, and moths;
angels’ halos and wings.
Mushrooms that feed
on dead matter.
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