I am seated with the Buddha on the fifth bleacher bench
on the west side of the high school gymnasium
treasurer of the Saturday evening sock hop
reading the Perfect One’s Sermon at Benares
while Judy’s collection of rock and roll 45 discs blasts out of two speakers
plugged into the portable record player on the stage
my classmates dance and whirl
powdered white buck shoes with orange soles
squeak on the shellacked basketball court floor
between records they talk excited about Elvis
already in high school I am sidelined yet three years off medication
three years after confirmation and catechism
pondering how dreams of sensual passion with Sandra
could be ignored when freedom from it is a step toward Enlightenment

I wait, not idly, for my mind
brain released from suppression by phenobarbital
from the velocity governor of Dilantin
religious philosophy is first to beckon query

Shakers wait too, for the Reappearing
not idly, design a platonic city in geometry
God’s mind immanent in right angles and squares and rectangles

Canterbury village museum does not recreate historical experience
I must imagine the 300 believers in their world of faith
rapping hammers wheezing wood saws bang bang bang at the iron forge
dancing choreographed steps choral voices in the hall of the Dwelling
songs 7-note scale without harmonies as ancients approve
as English folk tunes they knew
conversation in the lanes garden kitchen school
looing of cattle cackling of chickens hum from the Bee House
plain construction without decoration
simplicity of function
to build to construct is practical worship
as it is for Buddhist and Benedictine monks
in their bustle the Divine animates them
celibacy and Progress

they house cattle in a 2 ½ story Great Barn
1854 U-shaped
situated on a gentle slope in fields

where the herd graze and hay is harvested
walk to and from their own named stalls
to which they are trained
outside the geometric plan of the village
foundation of quarried rectangular granite blocks
metamorphized clay and crystals
stone walls slate roof
designed for durability
36 individual stalls for Holstein cows
Believers milk together in a single open hall
hay stored and dropped from above for bedding
each stall with a trap door to shovel out manure and urine
to the basement floor below
lined with heavy planks on packed mortared clay

the Great Barn burns completely in 1973
only foundation blocks remain still in sturdy duty
no processions of Brothers and Sisters
morning and evening to milk them
when I visit there
I feel no presence of a vanished cathedral
how could the builders avoid an ungodly pride
perhaps by thinking of it only for eventual demise
it is not a monument only a waystation
they do not want their village to evoke awe

a grass staircase leads from the herb garden to the village
each step an indentation in the slope
shoveled by hand as makeshift aid
worn by foot traffic in earlier decades
they define the earthen staircase with wood logs
3-inch straight tree branches at the lip of each step,
pressed in the forward worn edge
to define riser and tread
no handrail to steady the ascent
seven rungs in Jacob’s Dream
seven stages of purification to Enlightenment
when I arrive at the top
though the village is serene in my view
emptiness and silence stand beside me
without imperfection the world cannot exist