Bodhisattva


I wore my suit and tie
like a Bodhisattva wears his robes
my wingtips his sandals

I drove my Mercedes C-Class
like an ox cart and read scripture as some
revere Kerouac; or Ginsberg

all these became in me
I thought—the markings
of a spiritual man

where some climbed mountains
in Sherpa chhuba; or crossed desert in Bedouin thawb
I walked sidewalks in Armani chic

as those who chant
mantras into the wind; I spoke “truth”
(into the wind) for no one listened

and the sun set
and the sun rose
and I woke up

1996

 

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6 responses

  1. Like the new format. Like the poems very sharp but still sensitive. Going to read my way through your archives. Glad you got all your stuff back. Marianne.

    Like

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