Variations on a Buddha Shove
by Charles Brice
One day while walking through the wilderness a man stumbled upon a vicious tiger. He ran but soon came to the edge of a high cliff. Below was another tiger. Desperate to save himself, he jumped, grabbed a vine, and dangled over the fatal precipice. As he hung there, two mice, one black and one white, appeared from a hole in the cliff and began gnawing on the vine. Suddenly, he noticed a wild strawberry bush. He plucked a strawberry and popped it in his mouth. It was incredibly delicious! (traditional Zen story)
I. Sight
The man skids to the cliff’s ledge
After him a tiger
He looks down
Another tiger on the canyon floor
He must jump
He jumps
Grasps a vine on the way down
Dangles on cliff’s edge
Two mice appear
One white
One black
Gnaw on the vine
Gnaw on the vine with truculence
The man spies a strawberry bush barely within reach
He grabs a strawberry
Eats it
Luscious!
II. Touch
Tiger-breath bakes his calves
Thighs simmer
Toes cramp against the ledge
Are his shoes too small?
Wind whips his body
Vine furrows bloody his palm
Thick and sticky
Rotator cuff tears like a tooth yanked with plyers
Legs flail like a noosed man
He feels a tiger-breath chrysalis form around his body
Mice torture and twist
Like night
Like day
Pained strain for the strawberry
Tongue scrapes rough strawberry ridges
Teeth squeeze
Tingle tease
Sweet juice soulburst!
III. Sound
Paws pound the ground like bass drums
Bouncing tympani
Mothers of thunder
His wheezes asthma the forest floor
Below
Toothy pre-crunch requiem
Ravenous roar
Wind buzz
Wind whirl
Hand-skin rips like a butcher’s slice
Rotator cuff pops like a firecracker in a beer can
Lips slurp sweet strawberry nectar
Tongue-suck jails the juice
His smile sounds like a smile!
IV. Smell
Olfactory offal terror reek
Predation musk
Perfume of prey
Acrid attar of lion-breath
Smell of blood
Dust
Dirt
Torn flesh and vine stink
Strawberry scent
Aroma of here
Aroma of now!
V. Taste
Acid
Vomit
Salt
Spitless tongue
Strawberry sugarburst
Sweet saliva syrup
A little tart but in a good way
Palate of calm!
VI. Transcendence
His world lies in a hospital bed
Her face sweaty marble
She’s not going to make it
Every vein pulses
A tsunami of dread
He’s breathless
Death after him
Death waiting for him
For us all
He leaps
Grabs
Sobs
Days into nights into days into nights into days
Thick tongue mouth sear
Dangling between panic and despair
Forty years married he
Bends towards her face
The edge of peace
He kisses her lips
Luscious!
Ten Paintings by Matisse
1. The Open Window
iron bars
2. Blue Nude
aren’t they all
3. The Conversation
strictly one-sided
4. The Painter and His Model
were one and the same
always
5. Woman with a Hat
spits at Carole Maso
steals her cahier
6. Bathers with a Turtle
those motherfuckers
he was just a turtle
out for a swim
7. Beasts of the Sea
ask Churchill
8. The Music Lesson
slap my fingers again
bitch
9. Male Nude
age 27
they found water
in his lungs
10. Luxury, Calm, and Desire
set out the juice glass
watch the bees drown
we have time
Ten Jazz Standards
1. I Mean You
Don’t look around
I’m talkin’ to you
2. How Insensitive
On line all day
Hoping to get offended
3. Alone Together
You thought we were friends
We weren’t
4. A Child Is Born
Every time you open your mouth
5. Come Rain Or Come Shine
You are so predictable
Liver flukes are more interesting
6. Autumn Leaves
Why won’t you
7. Take The A Train
It’s for a-holes
8. Day Dream
Any dream
Is better than listening to you
9. In A Sentimental Mood
You hated sentimentality
Something no one will ever feel for you
10. How Deep Is The Ocean
Why don’t you jump in and find out?
Tarzan In Winter, 1955
1.
Our living room in Cheyenne,
fifteen by ten, so large for my
five-year-old body. Two planters
at the far end of the room
filled with ivy and bougainvillea
a jungle where Tarzan protected
Jane and Boy from marauding natives,
lions, tigers, and English missionaries
who threatened with civilization
and school. In my planters
poison darts bounced off Tarzan’s chest
like tiny sticks, the natives falling to their knees
as he beat his breast in triumph.
In my jungle Tarzan tamed lions and
tigers, rode them like a rodeo cowboy;
chased missionaries who ran so fast
their safari hats flew off their heads.
Tarzan, Jane, and Boy used them for soup
bowls on cold nights in the Jungle.
2.
The drums were loud that winter. Tarzan
held up his hand when Jane asked
what they said. It was important
to get it all. The drums said the white man
had made new suns that spread poison
clouds swarming over the land. Did the drums
tell Tarzan about my white count gone crazy,
about Sandy Risha who died of leukemia
when she was twelve; all those kids who fell like ions
out of mushroom clouds? Did he fear for Boy?
3.
Tarzan watched my father wrap me
in a blanket – my ankles swollen again,
my throat sore again. They said I had Romantic
Fever. My dad’s hangover arms held me
to his scratchy face, his hands too unsteady
to shave. “It’ll be alright, Charlesy,” he said,
and carried me through the snow, to the car,
to the hospital, where nurses took my blood
every morning for six months, shoved a thermometer
up my behind every day, made me drink canned OJ,
and wouldn’t let me walk. In my five-year-old mind,
Tarzan waited for me with Jane and Boy
in my planters. He still repelled poison darts
and scared missionaries half to death.
I’d ride a lion through that hospital
one day, needles bouncing off my arms;
thermometers shooting out my butt. I’d scare
those nurses so badly their hats would fall off.
I’d tell Tarzan all about it.
BIO
Charles W. Brice is a psychoanalyst and a freelance writer in Pittsburgh, PA. His poetry has appeared in The Atlanta Review, Icon, Xanadu, The Quotable, The Paterson Literary Review, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Spitball, Barbaric Yawp, The Potomac, Shadow Road Quarterly, Wild Violet Magazine, Z-Composition, Arsonzine, Bear River Review, Jerry Jazz Musician, and The Front Weekly. Honors: “Goodbye,” third place, 2012 Literary Life Bookstore Poetry Contest (Robert Fanning, judge); “What She Held – 1966,” Editor’s Choice, 2013 Allen Ginsburg Poetry Contest; “Michigan Icebreaker,” semifinalist, 2013 Bailey-Beads Poetry Contest, University of Pittsburgh. Charles was recently named an International Merit Award winner of the Atlanta Review’s 2015 International Poetry Competition.
