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1 Poem by Elliot Richman |
| I COME UPON THE BUDDHA I come upon the Buddha sitting on a chunk of nose from his blown up statue in the Bayiyan Valley in the hills of Afghanistan. The Buddha is disguised as Newt Gingrich, except for his eyes filled with tears that smell like the Ganges. The Taliban don't notice us. They are too busy dis- mantling artillery pieces and whistling Arabic rap songs. I tell the Buddha to buck up. After all, it's only art. The Buddha extends both palms. In the right is a dead scorpion; in the left, a dead butterfly. "It is for them I weep, you stupid fuck," he says before changing into a pile of steaming dog shit. |
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