from the zen
Escaping myself, I became a priest:
my master prescribing total rain.
Thirty years in this sanctuary like a stolen gem,
my principle unchanged: only the deepest sense of loss; everything.
Meet me? Listen well before this rib closes.
*************
This month turning round like a pole
about to dissolve within. O the burdens.
Fragments and dice, yet where is the change?
No need to keep shaving my head or bathing every early morning.
Just set the table empty, that’s simple.
*********************
The lines that sweep you away
forehead of time, lifting lines like arms in the sun.
I climb my passions disarmed by the witness whose seeing.
Step beyond witness. I ask,
where is there another like me?
**************************
Go place tears for things
under separate categories of
what you do not know.
Feel the shabby chill of your own flesh
fading like the crescent moon
always judging every moment.
