Bathing Buddha in Clorox

Well-known phrases
have become sayings in themselves,
have become cliche enough
to re-dress their wealths
in an avant-garde irony,
shallow as esoteric puddles
in potholes
when it’s not even raining

Spring sayings ring true, though:
April showers Do, in fact,
make for lovely wildflowers by May –
Sayings true enough to be
dumbly poignant…

I believe “Spring Cleaning”
to be an unrecognized tradition of the season

Spring months resurrect a person’s
of Self,
which always begins as devastating
as gloomy days and threat of floods

Mourning is a shower for the soul
to die and grow back,
confident with purples, yellows, and greens,
and constellations in black

I died and came back
this week and the last –
and what better way
to feign sanity
than to dust and organize
and find your feng-shui
in vanity?

My smiling Buddha was dirty
in all his corners,
so I dusted my desk and
did my best to bleach
and clean his bald head

So stoned, I was,
and thinking I am like Jesus
using Clorox on Buddhist
disciples’ feet
re-making reality
as my broom sweeps and sweeps

Buddha weeps as I place him back,
done-over and worshipped
like each moment before moments lacked


2 thoughts on “Bathing Buddha in Clorox

  1. This was exquisite. The depth of commentary goes on for days. I love the juxtaposition of unlike imagery in poetry. This felt so right, and I think that “Cloroxed Buddha” is going to be a new phrase of the moment for me.

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