(I try to be so Buddhist)

— Robbie Sugg

I try to be so Buddhist
about “things”
        “No attachment” attached to
        every attainment
                All emptiness
                anyway.

But I can’t help the attraction
        to it
        the Spirit of Objects
                as revealed by the hand
                        long-gone.

Particles forming, wood growing its self until
        some hand cuts it with
        vision or
        no vision
        nails it, joins it
        carves
        polishes surface, shines its
        iridescent nature, making a table
        a wall, a statue could be similar to
        the gravity that everything
        gravitates to.

The body of a Tibetan ewer made of
two human skulls joined at the brow
ridge from which the pouring teaches
that the mind
is egg-shaped.

I cannot separate myself from the notion
that consciousness is palpable.

What miles of brain could read
between the spines of the fault zone?
        Only that miles of brain
        run through the spine of bone
        when everything orbits
        everything.

To float the river of ash
through the Milky Way
        Many look into the glow of screens
        for news or story when
                the oldest news is revealed
                when you find yourself looking
                into stone.

One thought on “(I try to be so Buddhist)

  1. Buddhist indeed! This is a ko-an within a ko-an within a ko-an… By time you work through a stanza, you find yourself at a loss again at the next stanza, and then again, and then again, but at it’s end, the poem negates all your efforts of understanding it. It is, after all, about the notion of eternity, and who can grasp its enormity?

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