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CRYPTIC (an acrostic)
God, it was a long night, unending needs unsated, brought to the edge man is a cruel beast, half master as pleading supplicant, half slave much the child, begging, wanting as if food or thought would give man humanity, elevated above needs, existing outside, independent a God, ruler of illusion and fantasy. First Appeared in…
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SLOW STREAM
The river that I imagined, a torrent of words and images is little more than a dry trickle, construction cranes along one shore hauling away half- and ill-formed thoughts, leaving only desire and frustration as a marker of what might have been. I looked at each bend, hidden from sight as harboring that epiphany that…
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SOUTHERN MOUNTAIN 鐵笛倒吹 四十二
When you visit the Southern Mountain what will you say of its Northern brother? Returning northward what words will best describe the Southern peak? Answer carefully after much thought or remain silent, both choices are yours to select, as both mountains caress the passing clouds and reach out for the sun which neither may grasp.…
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CHOSHA’S STOP ILLUSORY THINKING
Before life there is death, before death there is life. In life there is death, in death there is life, a worm cut in two, each half moves, in each a new worm or is there one worm. This I ask you, but answer or no answer both are full of Buddha nature. A reflection…
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How Is It!
I can never fully comprehend iwhy they never seem able to see things from my perspective, it really isn’t the all that hard. After all, they claim to know me better than I know myself. Today they never ask if I liked what they chose to serve me, why I left the food, sometimes? Today…
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THE REAL WAY 碧巌録 二
Heed Joshu’s words the real way is not difficult look within the mind come across words, thoughts and cast them over the edge into the abyss. Continue searching until no words or thoughts remain and you are left with mu. Then carry mu to the precipice and cast it, too, into the abyss make your…
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VLADIMIR
Krevchinsky froze his ass off on the Siberian plain. The gray concrete box was traded for concrete gray skies, the whistle of the truncheon gives way to winter’s blasts. It was in many ways easier when the beatings came neatly marking the days dividing days between pain and exhaustion, all under the watchful eye of…
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THE SIXTH ANCESTOR’S “YOUR MIND IS MOVING”
As you look out the window you say the branches of the tree are dancing, the clouds barely stopping to gaze down on the scene. Walk outside and feel the breeze skitter along your skin, see the seed pods of the maple take wing and fly off. Ask yourself why this is, is it the…

