Saturday, September 11, 2010

gazing right through the dancing girls

the buddha gazed through things
w/ancient x-ray vision

through dancing girls' tight bellies
through glittery gyrating hips
through the smoke screen of meat
through the steamy window of Fuck

in order to wink w/his right eye & then his left
at the Dying & the Dead

as if each of his wise heavy lids
were tattooed w/ the same word: Dream
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.