CANTO 64 Daydreaming, lazing, musing, swaying

 

Daydreaming, lazing, musing, swaying,

rhapsodizing, sitting, concentrating, long now

since that emanation, turtle, showed me the sutra

and "the gathering of a strength," many sittings now

since that Canto Manifesto, how did it go,

appease none, account to none, follow none,

have no esthetic

but to sit and sing,

and still I’m looking, "A presence, or an absence?

surely among these is the emanation I seek!"

poking even into matter, kindle

the keen fire of the nucleus, probing so deeply

daring to proclaim By the light of the last particle dimming

does the void begin to sing

today dreaming, lazing, musing, the terror

I’ve seen

the honesty of Cat

chewing the head off Mouse

I’ve seen the Holocaust on TV how helpless

and afraid I am they were eaten dreaming, lazing, musing,

 

longing for the Pure Land

"the easy path of devotion...a pond wherein

white lotuses bloomed..." oh Amitabha make me a Buddhafield

"into which could be reborn, not merely the privileged few,

but all sentient beings who observed a few elementary

ethical precepts or who simply invoked His name."

or if we could just stop the eating the ethnic eating

the animal eating, if eating and love were the same.

In my Pure Land

making good love means eating

what wants to be eaten: fruit

has flesh where juice

runs instead of blood—

all seed swims in food

that wants whichever mouth

pleases you both.

Lovers can feed

on the opening to the egg,

whether by prong or tongue

or other. A careful lover knows

between these lips go

sun and moon together.

Easy to gather

a handful of nuts!

When the shell is cracked

and the sweetmeat picked

an empire has risen

and fallen.

Does her milk run

on his chest, and cock,

and the baby asleep?

Making good love

means knowing what to eat:

fruit, egg, nut, and milk

freely willed, nothing killed.