fistfulls of tsampa, butter lamps,
kneeling till my legs are cramped
and feeling less than human here,
where I am but a sightseer--
the things I know of bhodi trees
are what was writ in books for me--
of this fourth summer lunar month:
frayed prayer flags’ silk like amianth
with them do my thoughts most align
at a festival that is not mine.
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
fistfulls of tsampa, butter lamps,
kneeling till my legs are cramped
and feeling less than human here,
where I am but a sightseer--
the things I know of bhodi trees
are what was writ in books for me--
of this fourth summer lunar month:
frayed prayer flags’ silk like amianth
with them do my thoughts most align
at a festival that is not mine.
alternate title: feigning enlightenment at Saga Dawa.
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