(first published in Octotillo Review, Summer 2020.)
The body inside the statue is thought to be that of Buddhist master Linquan, a member of the Chinese Meditation School who died around A.D. 1100.
Thick dark. Airless silence.
My motionless body, in a red robe
patched together with scraps,
seated in lotus position.
Meditating. A living Buddha
entombed in the Master’s effigy.
After starving myself on a diet
of tree bark, pine needles, nuts,
herbs to discourage bacterial growth.
After drinking a poisonous tea
as emetic to dry out my body,
make it toxic to insects and maggots.
After burial under the ground
with a breathing tube of bamboo,
a bell to ring every day
until the sound ceased.
Self-mummification:
my bid to achieve Buddhahood.
Years later removed from the tomb
to be worshiped within the temple.
Interred at last inside this gold-painted statue,
on the path to release from rebirth.
Suddenly jolted out of my dream:
a horde of machines—scanners, computers—
an onslaught of needles and probes.
All my mysteries exposed.
No longer approaching Nirvana.
Bionote
A former English professor at Grand Valley State University in Michigan, I am celebrating the freedom of retirement in Port Charlotte, Florida, where I’ve finally achieved what I once thought an unattainable dream: poems published in various literary magazines, a full collection, and a third chapbook This Sad and Tender Time,, forthcoming in spring 2024. Much better than grading papers!
The body inside the statue is thought to be that of Buddhist master Linquan, a member of the Chinese Meditation School who died around A.D. 1100.
Thick dark. Airless silence.
My motionless body, in a red robe
patched together with scraps,
seated in lotus position.
Meditating. A living Buddha
entombed in the Master’s effigy.
After starving myself on a diet
of tree bark, pine needles, nuts,
herbs to discourage bacterial growth.
After drinking a poisonous tea
as emetic to dry out my body,
make it toxic to insects and maggots.
After burial under the ground
with a breathing tube of bamboo,
a bell to ring every day
until the sound ceased.
Self-mummification:
my bid to achieve Buddhahood.
Years later removed from the tomb
to be worshiped within the temple.
Interred at last inside this gold-painted statue,
on the path to release from rebirth.
Suddenly jolted out of my dream:
a horde of machines—scanners, computers—
an onslaught of needles and probes.
All my mysteries exposed.
No longer approaching Nirvana.
Bionote
A former English professor at Grand Valley State University in Michigan, I am celebrating the freedom of retirement in Port Charlotte, Florida, where I’ve finally achieved what I once thought an unattainable dream: poems published in various literary magazines, a full collection, and a third chapbook This Sad and Tender Time,, forthcoming in spring 2024. Much better than grading papers!
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