Kill the Buddha
I am wood and I am put into the kiln
I am fire and the water washes over
I am pottery hard enough to crack
kill the Buddha moment by moment
you are not what you wear you are not what
a feather in the cap a shot of mercury in a glass
a ghost in the machine a puff of opium smoked
kill the buddha before it holds fast.
Close your eyes
is it all just black and white
the nebulous thoughts break like autumns tree limbs
caught up in the terbulence of preconception.
What is made real is made real
by labeling by numbering by misunderstanding
kill the buddha moment by moment
take the new and keep it that way.