The Buddha Says
John McKernan
Why you so ugly to yourself? So hurtful
Oh Oh Another phylum fake mysticism
Wood chips & leaves disguised as God
Why do you spend your life reciting that
telegram like your social security
number?
Pain loud as a blue tattoo of scorpions
Open your palm Braille is spoken here
The erasers will have something to say
about that idea
The desire to be the circle inside a piece
of blue chalk on a black board
These might be Fortune Cookies except
for the absence of words & numbers
What the pulse says is never whispered
in Sanskrit
Don’t worry They have offered a reward
Consider the blue sky an assault against
invincible ignorance
Go on Coax the eyelids to open Plead
with them to stay shut
Some stone waits to be sand Waits to be mirror
Waits to be telescope glass
What is below the mud? Dirt Dust Gravel
Dead trees masquerading as coal
“I don’t understand the question you keep
asking”
A borrowed body sometimes borrows ideas
“We know you did it We want to know why”