How to Kill the Buddha

How to Kill the Buddha
Glenn Wallis

When the full moon in April pierces the clouds,
Shattering crystals of light into the kohl black night
Have him, this Sun of Man, slip his sheets like a thief.

Pure as lotus, lotus-eyed, descended as if from the sky—
For he should not enter this world through the portal of life—
Have him, beneath a beryl canopy, stoop to kiss his dreaming wife.

Dab his skin with the pulp of fig:
This is the color of enlightenment.
Neuter his need: this will excite virtue, stiffen morality.
Justify with shrill decree and abstruse philosophy, repugnance—
Toward wheelbarrows, crotches, grass, and perfume.

Okay, now mount the World’s Eye to his steed and
Have him speed as if spurned to the forest of seers and
On the way bind his arms in rings of fiery gold and
Lay a headdress radiant with hypnotic jewels and
Have him bellow like a mighty bull and
Lean that bull-chest forward to conquer the wind to
Reach the trees to take his seat among the sage
Before the starry vault fades with the
Dawn.

That should do it.

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