(it's not what yu think}

the bright moon tonight
is very near
​but the tip of my finger
is far away
golden beams on my face
and slightly inebrieated
I cry or I laugh
the absurdities of life.
Everyday the people file into the temple
to bow before the big dead buddha.
They would be better off
bowing before those carts of manure
I saw back there on the road.
Shit that will be used to grow food and herbs.