Bodhku

Silent Air

I shall dress
  wordlessness
  in words—
one silent syllable
  at a time

Then I’ll dress
  wordlessness
  in air—
silently breathing in
  breathing out

::

Me is a
  vast basket
Filled to the brim
  with all these
  non-me sundries

::

Anapanasati

Each inhale trawls
  a trillion subtle fish
Every exhale
  sets them free

::

Relief

Finally, there is
  just me—
no past, no future
no story, no plot

::

Our planet’s
  cloak of darkness
has sprung
  many a leak—
we call them Saints

::

What could possibly
  delimit the Spaceless
say, a sentient being

What tentacles could
  possibly rein him in
What barriers hold him

Other than a
  conviction—
I am walls
I am doors
They are all
  closed

Or is it greed
  that fake need
to survive
  that drives us
  apart
—warring

::

Zazen

Just sitting—
  no past
  no future
  no self
  no story—
what a relief

::

Zazen

When you sit
  very, very still
even the finest
  movement
sings out

::

Curtains

Language is just
  another curtain
between the spirit
  and her truth

Meaning is just
  another curtain
between the spirit
  and her truth

Beauty is just
  another curtain
between the spirit
  and her truth

Breathing is just
  another curtain
between the spirit
  and her truth

::

The Body

The body is not
  a thing
but an intricately
  layered event

::

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