The Zen of Not-Zen
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ध्यान


the buddha of dung

the zen of dog

the zen of fish

the zen of islam

the zen of not-zen

the book of nothing

the zen of non-collaboration

the zen of sufism

the zen of nihilism

the zen of disengagement

the hells going on

the zen of love and disillusionment

haikai on the edge

the zen of poetry

the zen of celebration

the zen of irony

imagepoem

the zen of cooking

the zen of tantra

the zen of masturbation

the zen of masculinity

towards the zen of sex

 



houses for the dead

ireland & the phallic continuum

fools for nothingness

 

PHOTOGRAPHS

prelude

metamorphotos NEW LINK

 

MUSIC

tombeau de kurt schwitters

three movements of melting ice

 

 

 

 

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this will make you think

 


The Favour Bank

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'The mind is the idea of the body.'

- Spinoza

zen



'A man can do what he wants,
but not want what he wants.'


- Schopenhauer

Zen

 

There is no-one who's enlightened.
Thinking is a rotten tree.
Truth is thinnest of thin air.
Poetry is Look-at-me !

zen

zen

If your mind was like mine
I'd be yours.

Your mind is like mine
and I'm yours.

My mind is like yours
and you're mine.

Only death can make us perfect.
There is no such thing as time.

Zen

 

I wasn't born.
I wasn't there.
The revelation
of the world is wildness.

 

zen

Breathing
is a religion;
there is no simplicity.

 

 

Asking myself
how to reach acceptance
I ruefully reply
There is no way.

 

 

In a world where nothing true is valued
I am almost happy to be not worth knowing.

 

 

"The sound of one hand clapping":
The amputee applauding war.

 

 

"The sound of one hand clapping":
Masturbation.

 

 

Zen is
what you're sure it's not.

 

 

THE UNMEANING OF LIFE

is that culture
is merely a distraction
from being.

 

 

RECENT RELAXING HAIKAI
2014

Even in winter
I send pictures of my garden
electronically.

Mouldy winter straw
inspires me to consider
old politicians.

Mothering Sunday -
hazy sweet memories
of bluebell woods.

Wind swings a window
and the countryside swerves just
before the rain comes.

Swallows from the shed
scythe through the gloaming to catch
the last daylight flies.

Fighting each other
old teazels and new poppies
embrace in the breeze.

In the bare meadow
after they harvested, the
hay-smell still lingers

They're firing stubble.
Thus burn brief ambitions of
policy-drafters.

Gazing at brown leaves
perhaps I have understood
what haikai don't say.

.

HAIKU HAIKU REVIEW REVIEW

 

"Poetry in the Anglosphere seems to be taught as a medium carrying within itself deep meaning,
deep imagery, and abstract symbolism.
As a man who grew up in a Buddhist culture, it is quite counter to my inclination.
Intricacy in poetry seems to me to glorify attachment to meaning, imagery and abstraction.
Buddhists are realists. They say 'my right hand is my right hand' and 'my shit is just shit'.
There is no meaning in meaningfulness.
There is no beauty in the merely beautiful ordering of words.
Fortunately, some poetry outside the Anglosphere seems largely to be free of this tendency,
often displaying admirable qualities of bare-bones realism." -
Suchoon Mo

 


You have read nothing before this.

Z since 4th March 2005en



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