Walking the ruins
of some old Buddhist
university,
I entered a chamber,
and found myself
confronting a Buddha,
its head obscured by
a bolt of sunlight.
I thought it might be like
one of those Angkor Wat
crop tops from when Pol Pot
had the heads chopped off
all the Buddhas to make
some quick cash.
But the head was intact,
just blotted out by blinding light,
and I blinked my way into sight
of that serene face.
Sun, Rain, Wind,
& other agents of wear
that tear down ancient stones
one grain at a time,
eroding symbolic rocks
carved with symbols
that meant something
to people in days of yore.
And they mean something
to people today,
but whether those meanings
match is another question...
Because our understanding
of past perspectives
is ever eroding:
just like those rocks,
but - unlike rock -
thoughts and beliefs
were wisps writ in a
malleable art: language.
We cling to traditions & lineages,
but everything is erased.
The sign read: "Flee Market,"
and so, of course, I fled.
The hawkers called to me
as I sped like hot lead.
From what I was fleeing,
I have no idea.
But I found a cheap chair
down at the IKEA.
It seems there's no need for a sign that says: "No Outsiders, Inside!" Wherever you may draw the line, it can't sensibly be denied that the outsider who steps across - having crossed - is an insider. No need to consult the rules or boss Re: the "IN" side of the divider.
The rains have arrived, pouring steadily. I watch from windows - high above the street, and see some stand in doorframes, tentatively, watching the droplets splat on the concrete, drops slip off curbs and into the gutters. You'd think the water would scour the world clean: that it'd sweep away the dirt and the clutter, and wash the leaves to a clean shade of green. But, instead, it deposits grit and trash in piles and sandbars that're spaced randomly, and befouls all the walls with muddy splash - that paints with red clay, less than handsomely. But, while it may make the man-made world meaner, the rain does make the trees' world much greener.
clouds clear out from in front of the mountain: breathless boy remarks.
on a tree, the moth looks like a pair of eyes framed in a hidey-hole. on marble steps, the moth just looks like a moth.
white water churns
down the hillside into
a sprawling flood.
abandoned building,
in the background, blurs:
eyes lock on flowers
egrets & herons
stand on lily pads, only
sinking when stepping.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 