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Holy Zen Monk

Dreamed 1978/4/24 by Wayan
for all of us told we're incurable
or never ill at all

I'm in a stone maze. Stelae
and fountains. Overhead,
in the open sky, swim deadly
air-sharks. Like their sea-
kindred, they can't pause;
must prowl to breathe. So
they dare not squeeze
into our narrow, dead-end

Long as we live low
and hidden, we survive.
But rear on a wall and wide-
jawed sharks swarm. So when
any of us tire of scuttle dim,
it's how we go.

I'm a Zen monk
with a weird disease:
my body bubbleholed
like some swiss cheese
advancing cancer-slow:
weekly, pieces go.

So I strip naked, bare
my holy truth and stand
out above the horde:
choose the faster pain.
What loss? Already I'm
windowed. Cored.

Those who rule deny
this plague wasting me
and many. So as I die,
why not expose, accuse?
A friend sits quiet by
mute me, prepared to bear
witness. When they lie.

A man riddled with holes stands on a wall; air-sharks gather. Panel from 'Barbarella' by Jean-Claude Forest, c. 1964.


LISTS AND LINKS: I'm Just Not Myself Today! - identity-bent dreams - body image distortion - surreal dreams - privacy & secrets - initiative - out of the closet! - dream nudity - politics - more shark dreams: Shark Sense, Surface Tension & What Sharks? - hunted! - You Are Lunch - suicide - chronic illness & disease in general - healthcare - politics - truth & lies - healing from abuse - diagnostic dreams - puns - dream poetry - comics - I dream I'm Jane Fonda in His Mine

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