WEBVTT

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This poem is called "Mother of
the Buddhas, Queen of Heaven,

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Mother of the Son, Marici,
Goddess of the Dawn."

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The title is the--

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the title is the attributes
of the 12th century Mahayana

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Buddhist goddess that got
lost somehow in history.

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However, this poem is dedicated
to a Cambodian Buddhist

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monk named Ghosananda.

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I was walking with Ghosananda
in a field in Bihar.

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And we came across a statue
sticking out of the ground

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and he said, "Aha, it's Marici."

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It was a statue of a naked
lady standing on top of a ball,

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holding a sword in one hand
and a bundle of thunderbolts

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in the other.

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And he said, oh
yes, it's Marici.

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She has been out of circulation
since the 12th century.

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Her vehicle was a
pig, and pigs are

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the food of outcasts in India.

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In fact, only the outcast
people raised pigs, hence

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the connections.

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"Old sow in the mud,
bristles caked black

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down her powerful neck.

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Tiny hooves churn, squat
bodies slithering deep

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in food dirt, her warm dirt,
deep plowing snout, dragging

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teats.

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Those who keep her or
eat her are cast out.

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She turns her small eye from
earth to look up at me."

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This is called "Nanao
Knows," Dedicated to Sakaki

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Nanao, a Japanese
poet friend of mine.

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Don't ask me why, I
[INAUDIBLE] this way.

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"Mountains, cities,
all so light, so loose,

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blankets, buckets, throw away.

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Work left to do.

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It doesn't last.

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Each girl is real,
her nipples harden.

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Each curl is damp,
her smell, her hair.

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What am I to be
saying, there they all

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go over the edge dissolving?

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Riveters bind up steel rod
bundles for wet concrete.

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In and out of forest cities,
families like a fish."

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