Posted in poetry on May 9, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Bodhi trees
arching above these
pilgrims to a shrine
see everything come & go
child’s balloon floats
up to some empyrean
far too high for retrieval
tears
always come.
Buddha not an Icarus
who made wings of his mind
had nowhere to fall
bodhi leaves gathered
at his feet.
Posted in poetry on May 2, 2015| 2 Comments »
Woman on the other side who
coughs like a sick cat. Stale
rain & fish-paste, frying
chilli through the broken
window-frame, true dreams
imbibed in needless sleep.
Burmese cleaner who knocks
on the door—temple dancer make-up,
a single beauty spot, spunglass hair
in a net, does the toilets twice a day,
been here a thousand years. He chews
betel always & has a catalogue of smile
that outlasts the marketplace. Some
kind of Buddha, they say.
When the rain starts again, there is
no window to close. From the street, talk
of someone who has
never left.
whispered lineage 