I know why the fat Buddha smiles.
The wall washed in blood, / the blade wants for nothing more / nor does the victim
muddy footprints, tsk / Oh, my immaculate floor / the cool mashed bodies
the first time again / fire makes the clay remember / the lament for Ur
sweat rolls down my cheeks / top of the hill, a shaded bench / wet paint
my leg wet / a dog pissing, and shaking / the owner’s hand
Mothers other room / she visits in her nightmares / we have no upstairs