zen & poetry
my favorite tea bowl
lost to a sage who once said
it’s okay to break form
mostly gulping
it was a splendid night
of sitting zazen
no water this time
for those poor hungry ghosts
too much thinking
eyes struck a turkey
looking through the window
the mind gobbles
somewhere a coconut
is being hit outside
time to sit zazen
the Tao echoes
all around the zendo
white bean soup
I worked hard to build This lovely sand castle. I bring visitors through The well-kept courtyard. The back room collapsed A little while ago. It shocked me at first I thought this was sturdy. The fallen sands reveal An infinite ocean closing in. The waves collect anything Lying in its path. I’ve worked so hard On this crumbling sand castle. What will others say When the courtyard is taken? A wave hits my window, Filling the floor with cold ocean. I lost my breath and stood frozen Could not deny what I saw. I’ve no need for this castle The sea is my true home. It was there all along, Just waiting to be seen.
fog hugging mountain
the two are not separate
drizzling rain
sound and silence
not one without the other
I walk to the ridge
nothing but fog
somewhere an ocean
nothing to be done
wait for something to arise
bottle of sake
beautiful flowers
at empty office buildings
no one to see
gust of wind
knocked over the pot of mint
or maybe a cat
who am I
which part of me
is unsatisfied
spring fog is here
warm afternoons and cool air
no track of time
conditioned mind
its vision narrow
look through awareness
mix of emotions
watching preferences arise
I’ll take the green tea
stone thrown in pond
water reverberates
birds fly, flowers fall
a candle flickers
our true self is right here
light casts a shadow
looking deeply into
the mirror of samadhi
I vow to polish
laughing with delusions
being with others
opening new doors
cleaning the zendo
birds singing dharma
time to go home
the han sounds funny
a friend points to the center
sound of wood rings clear
dolphins passed us in winter
we watched from the shore
no coincidence
returning to office
meeting with other buddhas
please have some tea
life is a painting
both dreadful and wonderful
who is the artist?
eating clam chowder
before sitting zazen
doan, ring the bell
While thinking of thinking,
And thinking of not thinking,
It’s simple to forget the I.
For only a moment,
A moment of moments,
Truth has no place to hide.
No “I” to wonder the meaning of this,
The moment is gone and the next one appears.
This is just this,
It’s all it is,
But it’s simple to forget.
Fog Sutra 