Day Six

Day Six


the meditation on decay – travel version

neither has it killed me
nor made me strong
still one feels good to feel good
alive alive
such are the tricks of unceasing desire

the body is a porous prison
bars of the soul lie always beyond

rain won’t daunt me
cloud like a white scarf
draped through the mountains

like a welcome, a rite of purification
foregrounding flight
the birds attend it

summer snow
and the river runs
from a distance

all courses down

the landscape is a tankha too

silk covered
sky mirrored
in soul and above

so let it be
with our sphincters

*

though rancid butter is a help
and can always be left
in the sun as required
the meditation on decay
as advised in the sutras
is best effected by proximity
to human faeces

how hard can it be?
the stuff’s always with us

the serious pilgrim tourist
can take away
a shit censer
to swing around at home
when the air gets too fresh

smoke and rancid butter
mingled rise

an aerosol version is being developed
though the irony of such a product
may yet be lost on the more zealous consumer

point is
something’s got to be got
out of the system

oxygen juice – the latest drink
freshly squeezed from the air

it’s angry demons emerge from my bottom
proving the path to enlightenment nigh

Lhasa today

the Chinese town thrown over the prayer wheel
mandala of how the world has to be

flags are their own means of production
peasant and soldier and scholar are one