Bathroom light bulb bulging energy
Blissfully from the ceiling,
White tile walls radiant,
I strip naked, chanting,
chanting, I prepare my billionth bath
maneuvering myself behind rubber-plastic curtains
and into the tub as if
for the first time
and turn on hot and cold water
simultaneously and watch with joy
the ceiling burst into countless
water-drop universes.

"Krishna is water! Hare Hare Hare!"
I chant joyfully, while the light bulb
like Vivasvan, sun-god, pours his energy,
blissful, blissful, blissful kilowatts
all out for Lord Bhagavan in excelsus
while each joyous drop spurts
to mirror Mr. Sun-bulb
showering dear mythical body
with a water orgy,
showering hairs and flesh
with warm water sensation.

Sensation is emptiness,
emptiness sensation
says Lord Buddha-woodha. Ah-cha!

Sensation is not different from Krishna, I add,
nor is Krishna different from sensation,
indeed, Krishna , Krishna is sensation,
Water sensation,
Shower sensation over Hayagriva's feathers,
giving a shower ecstasy
over the millennium,
a bathroom satori,
a washtub samadhi,
free of charge.

Krishna is soap, I think, grabbing the Ivory,
slippery on my belly as I lather
watching with awe
a trillion rainbow'd soapbubbles
run down my pubic tangle
while Niagara
falls down my back.
"Hare Krishna, Hare Rama," I sing,
chanting the white cosmic bathtub
and universal gurgling drain
and soap and wondrous water shower
and washrag and bulging light bulb

and billowing steam clouds and my own
miraculous body,
certain my nightly shower
greater indeed than Rome,
more glorious than Greece,
dwarfing indeed, St. John's 
tiny revelation,
as I lather my beard
with decillions of bubbles
while holy waters flow to my voice
sacred, sacred, sacred, sacred, sacred waters
and I thinking,
Next shower I'll have to bring 
my fingercymbals.

Hayagriva Das Brahmacary
(Howard Wheeler)