MEOW

Again today I am inside this so called
box, unchanged perhaps, but who
is to say, not you, still Schrodinger’s cat.

Don’t bother to ask if I am dead
or alive, for like the Master Daowu, you
can bet that I won’t say, so there.

And do not assume I know what I am,
for if I were dead, I’d hardly know it
and what guarantee is there that

I’m actually alive merely because
I think I am, or is it that I think
I think that I am, it’s all so Descartean

that I’m never quite certain, so let’s just
assume that old Schrodinger was right,
I’m alive and dead, and leave it at that.

WORMHOLE LOGIC

Getting a headache, are we? You feel like Schrodinger’s cat. It’s really like asking yourself if the Big Bang was the beginning of everything, what was there in that split second before the Big Bang? If God created everything, what created God? If time begins with the Big Bang, what time was it before there was time? And who are you really, if you know your are merely an illusion created by you? And please tell me, what time is it? Find the black hole, for there is freedom.

NO TWO

If you ask me whether
a dog has Buddha nature,
I will stare back at you
in total silence.
If you ask again,
or implore an answer,
I will smile at you,
offer gassho and a bow.
If you ask yet again,
I will turn away
and you will be left
with a box into which
you dare not look
lest you find
Schrodinger’s cat.


Musing on case 1 of the Gateless Gate (Mumonkan)

SCHWARZSCHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSE

In the space
of a moment
a universe
can be engulfed,
light pours forth
from a black hole,
suns rise
over the event horizon,
space curves in
on itself
until it is yesterday.
Shrodinger’s cat
feasts on Albert’s twins
and the dice
are just
out                                                          of
                                                                                                                       reach.