Urban Dharma
Literature, PoetryGrumpy Buddha lives up stairs
at the end of the eight fold path suite #108
one part Conqueror of Mara, Exalted One
and two parts Mr. Myagi.
He knows why
the circuit breaks if you use
microwave and toaster
at the same time.
Studies scar
moon’s face conversing
with myriad
stars freckling body of night sky.
This summer stared down sun only
to have eyes opened, sight
keener than before.
In autumn disciples from past lives
rustle reincarnated as maple leaves
chanting confession drifting
down courtyard grounds.
Counts pennies,
prayer beads, collecting
bottles and pop cans
from street-sides, garbage bins.
While winter wind kisses
white crystals of frost
on sidewalk.
His walk a hobble,
humble hovering
shuffle so as not to trample
caterpillars, or new
green things of spring.