RE-ENTRY ALLOWED

He sits on the cushion
staring through hooded eyes
at the wall in front of him.
He expects exactly nothing to happen,
expects there to be no sound
within his mind, only what
happens without, expects that time
will cease for him, or
will at least cease to matter.
He is not disappointed.
The bell rings, he arises,
and walks back into the world
where everything happens,
there is only sound, and
he stares at his watch knowing
time has moved on in ways
he can never hope to fully grasp.

CUSHION

He sits on the cushion
staring through hooded eyes
at the wall in front of him.
He expects exactly nothing to happen,
expects there to be no sound
within his mind, only what
happens without, expects that time
will cease for him, or
will at least cease to matter.
He is not disappointed.
The bell rings, he arises,
and walks back into the world
where everything happens,
there is only sound, and
he stares at his watch knowing
time has moved on in ways
he can never hope to fully grasp.

ENSO IT GOES

I spent much of yesterday
trying to draw perfect enso.
You would think it easy to draw
the simple circle, one easy stroke,
but my efforts suggest otherwise.
It is my Western mind, my teacher
once suggested, always linear, this
moment next to that, and then
the one that must naturally follow.
If not a straight line, a line nonetheless.
I tried to tell him that was not it,
I am not as linear as he imagines,
but all he said was “mu,” rang
his bell and called for the next student.
Anyway, he said as I departed, “keep trying,
giving up your monkey mind can occur
in that moment, in every moment,”
and I want to believe him, certainly,
but my ill drawn circle calls him a liar.