Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

March 17, 2010

Neon Green

my old teacher told me

I was young once, hitched
all the way to New York City
as a boy from West Virginia

heart leaning lump-like
rough white clay toward truth
he felt uncolored, unexplored

my old teacher told me

I travelled east with a guitar
to New York City's zen center
and on the steps I met a monk

and a green lotus-posed statue
of the buddha burning green green
so neon searing that he asked, Why?

It turned green when the bomb hit
Hiroshima, and has been so ever since
said he, then laughed and laughed

and I've never learned another lesson since.


Posted by delire at March 17, 2010 11:53 AM
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