in your serene place
the Ganges flow
like a hazy lake
illustrious bodies, white shrouded
they sink and float, in worlds of slumber
the mystique and the whore,
sit cross legged, pricking their toes,
pubic hair in ripples, they swear,
crusted rectum, in midnight soil
the opium pipe, shining bright.
O arahat, O thou divine,
thy self, like wisps of monsoon rain,
pouring red hot smoke,
down alleys of dawn, Grey,
shadows of mice, they wiggle,
the cripple, who walks the night, dribbles
the cripple, who walks the night, dribbles
O arahat! O madman of now,
lie on a sheet of plastic metal.
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