Autonomous Evil

Autonomous Evil

While some are wise enough
to search for the next
reincarnation of the Dalai Lama,
I am not, but

I have found Mao
as a fly in a spider web

Must I speak to
Tse Tung, or indulge
the tongue of my hatred
by laughing at he
who teachers mocked,
the angry secularist who
revenged himself by
collecting grievances, in
confusion, hate for relics,
for Religion, for Buddhism,
who is caught
in a spider web?

Han shopkeepers in Lhasa
speak with condescension
of Tibetans they call
unworthy and lazy
ungrateful for smokestacks

Wang Zhongyong
calls us
“white-eyed wolves”

Yuan Qinghai
a Lhasa taxi driver
calls us filthy
not clean
like Han on their high tanks,
we on our horses

The science of the missile,
the rocket, entices
the Han jackals to embrace
the harmony and unity
of delusion

I know nothing of Lhasa
while plainclothes police lurk

I know Tibetans
have died

Maybe I have strayed, but
how would I know —
all my elders are dead, and
in ignorance of my faith I cry

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