The Shrunken Paps of Buddha .. .
I lay the cobalt lanes stoney
dusted grey-ink and pink
ultramarined, wet-on-wet, carmined
and speckled snowy
Tracing ketch shapes standing
pencilled against a warm wind
of deep, misted blue
There the slightest of jeanne filles reclining
at the eye-line receding
, dressed holy-casual
their robes the colour of flesh
and the ochred redness of the shingle
a heap of feeling transcendent, clean
meditations of a simple way.