Fasting Buddha

I often wander

the Bowery in Chinatown

on snowy evenings,

            brushing shoulders

            with other faceless silhouettes.

 

Each step is trodden-

They are all I can make out under

the metropolitan cries.

            I cannot hear the voice

            in my head,

            just the trudge of my

            boots along the sidewalk,

            and the boots of others

            marching through

            the black slush on the ground

            alone with their own

            wandering thoughts.

Cold thoughts-

A true cold thought is one felt

in the skin.

            It stabs.

            It wipes my mind blank.

The only escape I take

is in the pace I make.

 

But I can only stand

so much cold,

so I enter into

a small trinket store

to warm up-

and the pain is gone.

            Ease.

My eyes wander the shelves,

and fix onto rows

of Buddha sculptures:

Each fat and amused.

Wild expressions mangle their faces.

            I imagine the

            same psychopathic smile

            pasted onto the facades

            of my fellow travelers

            who hide under hoods

            outside on the street.

Each smile

breathes down my throat;

Eyes squinted in euphoric

laughter,

forever stained

with joy:

Everlasting

ecstasy

achieved in the orgasmic

dimension

of eternity.

And Beauty Is

            Truth.

                        No,      truth,

                                    beauty.

 

The glares of the

woman behind the counter

lead me out the door.

 

            I look up to the sky,

            closing my eyes,

            to picture a Buddha sculpture

            from Gandhara.

The veins that cling to his

emaciated body

flow with

the same oily slush

bleeding into the gutters.

            He carries more weight

            then his bone tight

            skin lets on,

hanging rocks

from the mantle

 his skull.

 

Oh Buddha,

Where does the line

between truth

and beauty lie?

 

                        Perhaps it is found

                        within the beat

                        of boots

                        along the

                        wet

                        pavement