The RetroLounge Daily Poem Thread (Wed 2/6/2008)

[RetroLounge]

Shoveling Snow With Buddha

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.

Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.

Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?

But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.

All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.

After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?

Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.

Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.

Billy Collins

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Billy Collins was born in New York City in 1941. He is the author of several books of poetry, including She Was Just Seventeen (2006), The Trouble with Poetry (2005); Nine Horses (2002); Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems (2001); Picnic, Lightning (1998); The Art of Drowning (1995), which was a finalist for the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize; Questions About Angels (1991), which was selected by Edward Hirsch for the National Poetry Series; The Apple That Astonished Paris (1988); Video Poems (1980); and Pokerface (1977).

A recording of Collins reading thirty-three of his poems, The Best Cigarette, was released in 1997. Collins's poetry has appeared in anthologies, textbooks, and a variety of periodicals, including Poetry, American Poetry Review, American Scholar, Harper's, Paris Review, and The New Yorker.

His work has been featured in the Pushcart Prize anthology and has been chosen several times for the annual Best American Poetry series. Collins has edited Poetry 180: A Turning Back to Poetry (Random House, 2003), an anthology of contemporary poems for use in schools and was a guest editor for the 2006 edition of The Best American Poetry.


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:hi:

RL

[lizziegrace]

1. ...

I read this one last week (I found a terrific collection at the bookstore.)

Wonderful, wonderful poem.

:hug:

[RetroLounge]

5. ...

:hug:

RL

[xchrom]

2. ...

buddha on ash wednesday.

:hi:

[RetroLounge]

4. Apropos...

:hi:

RL

[hisownpetard]

3. Wonderful. Thanks, RL!

:hi:

[RetroLounge]

6. You're welcome

:hi:

RL

[Tuesday Afternoon]

7. bkmrking

still too sick. Saving for later. Thanks.

[RetroLounge]

8. Feel better soon...

:hug:

RL

[Tuesday Afternoon]

9. thanks.

Home Remedies. Trying to avoid the Doctor (read: Dr. bill). :hug:

[CaliforniaPeggy]

10. My dear Retro...

What a perfect and beautiful picture this makes...

Thank you for it...

:hug:

[Tuesday Afternoon]

11. I love it --

:D

I can see you and Buddha, Hangin' together--shovelin' snow :hi: