Introduction
Some years back, I grew interested haiku. Initially, because these short gems struck me as the perfect match for Twitter—a marriage made in digital heaven, as it were. Besides, how hard could it be to write a seventeen-syllable poem.
As I normally do when my interest alights on something, I read several books on the subject (that this time included Higginson and Harter’s wonderful The Haiku Handbook) and from there proceeded to immerse myself in several well-known haiku masters, such as Bashō, Buson, Issa, Shiki, et al.
Meanwhile, I began trying my hand at these things, initially strictly adhering to the five-seven-five syllable format, which, I soon came to find out (from online self-proclaimed haiku gurus), was quite a crude adaptation of that principle seeing that Japanese syllables do not necessarily correspond to English syllables (which are, by expert reckoning, quite unwieldy by comparison). Also, reading a lot of (published and respected) English language haiku I soon realized that both the five-seven-five and the seventeen-syllable “rules” had long since been abandoned by the better (and more creative) haiku poets.
As a result of seeing things in this particular light, I soon began taking liberties with the five-seven-five rule but for some odd reason the seventeen-English-syllable statute remained on the books, refused to leave, had found a home in me—if for no other reason than that my little haikus (which I soon named Wolfkus for an obvious reason) seemed to percolate to the surface fully grown and just about always in a string of seventeen-syllable creations. And when they did not, say they surfaced as an eighteen-syllable Wolfku, or a sixteen-syllable one, well, then I discovered that when I sand-papered the longer ones into seventeen, or added some air into the shorter ones into seventeen: the meaning seemed clearer, more definite—besides, this was a fun exercise (I love language and its many words and their bendable uses).
Struck by something, an image, a feeling, a thought, before long this seventeen-syllable raft came bopping to the surface (having been let go of by some curious and creative, though shy, deep-sea Wolfku deity). During a morning’s walk by the Pacific, three or four or sometimes five of these Wolfkus might surface, and it was all I could do to remember them all until I returned home to a pen or a keyboard.
Sometimes I did forget them, memory like a sieve these days.
Before not so long, many of these Wolfkus arrived more as aphorisms than true haikus, as little containers of distilled perhaps philosophical reflection. Well, since many of them struck me (the creator, or recipient might be a better word) as both unique and insightful, who was I to call a halt to this quite enjoyable, if curious, phenomenon.
A phenomenon that still flourishes and seems to have no intention to do otherwise, for I rarely return from an hour’s walk without some seventeen-syllable epigram or other.
Seeing, though, that the earth from which these Wolfkus sprung (and still spring) was replete with impressions and sometimes micro-epiphanies, I thought that perhaps it was time to revisit these Wolfkus and examine this fertile soil for what else it might hold. What, indeed, I wondered, gave birth to them, what carried them from darkness to light? And where did they, in turn, carry me? This is what gave birth to the idea of Wolfku Musings—a collection of Wolfkus and the soil that sprung them.
I have published Wolfku Musings, Book One, and will soon publish Book Two, to be followed by Three… Four… et cetera.
Meanwhile, I realized that I really should assemble a sort of archive of those Wolfkus that I have posted online, by now running into the several hundred, and also publish future Wolfkus Archives as I write and post them.
Lately, say over the last many months, I’ve begun to give my Wolfkus titles as well, just for, well, I don’t know why really, just felt right. As I now compile these Wolfkus from oldest to newest, I’ve also added titled to those who never had one.
All this said, here then, the thirteenth installment.
Wolfkus 1201 – 1300
— 1201 —
World Weary
Nicely settled
in Samadhi
when Language
storms in
to take over
Nicely settled
in Samadhi
when Pictures
storm in
to take over
Nicely settled
in Samadhi
when Feelings
storm in
to take over
Nicely settled
in Samadhi
when Maya
storms in
to take over
— 1202 —
Genius
Ducks, Newburyport:
a simply perfect
Lucy Ellman
word shower
the fact that
hers is the
brilliantest
word galaxy
river ever
— 1203 —
Virus
Man is just like
any other
dumb virus:
busy killing
its host
— 1204 —
Just Sitting
In Shikantaza
who or what
just sits?
Just sitting does
the sitting
— 1205 —
Memories
Memories are but
emptry trees
for the mind
to hang
ornaments on
— 1206 —
Images
For me, mental
images
carry flavor
more than
the visual
— 1207 —
Time Cracks
Now and then
time develops
hairline cracks
that let light
beyond
seep through
— 1208 —
The Self
This particular
blend of
consciousness
Never existed
before
This particular
blend of
consciousness
Will never exist
again
This particular
blend of
consciousness
Here and Now
calls itself Me
This particular
blend of
consciousness
Here and now
Just sits
Just breathes
— 1209 —
Samsara
Any movement
consists of
four lies:
Matter, Energy
Space and Time
To this we add
meaning
To this we add
thought
to kickstart
Samsara
— 1210 —
The Orchard
Life itself is
the Orchard
We, on the
other hand
are all
canned fruit
— 1211 —
The Big Question
How did Brahman
fragment itself
into delusory and
canned fruit
— 1212 —
Heidegger
I try to catch
Emptiness
in this net of
hopes, thoughts
and images
— 1213 —
Language
Beware you don’t
shipwreck
your Samadhi boat
on the shoals
of language
— 1214 —
Words
The clumsy fingers
of language
sundering my
delicate notions
— 1215 —
Attachment
Attachment sunders
the whole into
little self-fragments
of wanting
— 1216 —
AnapanaZazen
Delimited by
awareness
I dwell in a sea
of thoughts—
some mine
At times the sea
is but a puddle
Other times
a raging ocean
Expanded by
awareness
Ascending as air
I leave them
both be
— 1217 —
The Divine Joke
Incomprehensibly
large
Incomprehensibly
small—
A cruel joke
Trillions of galaxies
Trillions of atoms
in a dew drop—
That joke
— 1218 —
AnapanaZazen
Anapanasati settles
oh, so sweetly
in Shikantaza
— 1219 —
In Zazen
In Zazen
Being and
Seeing
are the very same
sweet miracle
— 1220 —
Sweet Gravity
Sit into the arms
of gravity
and his beautiful
stillness
— 1221 —
Language
Language—
the warm
and magical
multi-faceted
layer of mind
Transcending
language is
a beautiful
freedom
all unto itself
— 1222 —
Ego Views
Said the Ego—
Well, enough
about me
here’s what
I think
about you
— 1223 —
One Question
The one question
the Universe
is asking itself:
“What have I done?”
— 1224 —
Roots
The mind is
a subtle
root system
that provides
both anchor
and chain
— 1225 —
Language
Language not only
energizes my mind
it wields bricks
and mortar
— 1226 —
In Zazen (short)
When sitting
and breathing
language deepens
and refines
into silence
knowing deepens
and refines
into being
being deepens
and refines
into always
always deepens
and refines
into never
— 1227 —
Zazen Doers
Being air
is air
Breathing
just breathes
Sitting
just sits
Being
just is
— 1228 —
Food
Kill or be killed
whoever designed
this menu was
a lunatic
— 1229 —
Memories
These memories
are not mine
Their me is not me
for there is no me
— 1230 —
Nimitta
Air when still
grows luminous
Nostrils when still
grow eyes—
I see air
— 1231 —
The Body
The body is
a galaxy
of little selves
just doing
their jobs
— 1232 —
Distance and Size
The farthest star
the nearest atom
Equally small
me in-between
— 1233 —
Aslam
Nadeem Aslam’s
writing is so rich
it is physically
nourishing
— 1234 —
Memories
This brain is replete
with little memorizers
Thus, these memories
There is but one
backup system—
Yogacara’s buried
Karmic vault
Only perfectly
illuminated
emptiness
gains us access
— 1235 —
Sweetness
Oftentimes
the memories
are sweeter
than the
happening
itself
— 1236 —
Self-Doer
The Constructor
of viewpoints
The Builder
of walls
The Maker
of self
— 1237 —
Undoing
The universe
is a constant
doing
Zazen is pure
non-doing
Samsara
is a constant
doing
Zazen is a pure
non-doing
— 1238 —
My Zazen
The air holds
no memories
The air holds
no thoughts
stay with
this freedom
Posture holds
no memories
Posture holds
no thoughts
sit in
this freedom
Being holds
no memories
Being holds
no thoughts
discern
this stillness
— 1239 —
Wide-Aware
Wide-Aware: Be Air
Wide-Aware: Just Breathe
Wide-Aware: Just Sit
Wide-Aware: Just Be
I breathe away
the hindrances
I sit away
the senses
I am away
ignorance
— 1240 —
Nimitta
Unifying the
scattered
strength
that dreams
the Cosmos
—therein the light
— 1241 —
Touch
Touch—the original
the first and last sense
What air does to nostrils
— 1242 —
Global Warming
The Earth
will survive—
likely by
ridding itself
of humanity
— 1243 —
Small vs. Big
Atoms are stars
Cells are galaxies
The body is
the universe
— 1244 —
Language
All language
is metaphor
a symbolic
stand-in
for real life
— 1245 —
Eternity
What is born
must die
for eternity
cannot have
a beginning
— 1246 —
A Micro Letter
Dear Ego,
Please let go
your artificial
walls and
false boundaries
— 1247 —
Disguise
Words will always
distort their
meanings
by dipping them
in syllable
— 1248 —
Season Tickets
Consciousness has
season tickets
to the brain
and front-row seats
at that
— 1249 —
Crucial Question
I have but one
question:
How does
Emptiness
fragment into
Atman(s)?
— 1250 —
Mantra
My breath
is a silent, tactile
mantra
transcending both
word and thought
— 1251 —
Truth
The ultimate truth
proves everything
and is proven
by everything
— 1252 —
Eternity
Every now and then
eternity squeezes
itself in between nows
— 1253 —
Reality
The perennial
question:
Am I awake,
or just
dreaming
harder?
— 1254 —
Enemies
Genetically
(apparently)
deluded man
needs an
enemy
— 1255 —
Proof
I experienced
the proof
that experience
is proof—
the best proof
— 1256 —
Sweating
Sweating, he said
“I am soaking”
Sweating, too
she said
“I am so queen”
— 1257 —
Anapanazazen
I sit in
Anapanazazen
to train the Self
again to see
— 1258 —
Original Nostrils
Timeless then
is timeless now
as timeless now
is timeless then
Sizeless big
is sizeless small
as sizeless small
is sizeless big
Sizeless and timeless
these original nostrils
are air in—air out
— 1259 —
Just Words
They’re just words
They’re just words
They’re just words
They’re just words
They’re just words
Just words
— 1260 —
Advaita
I sail an ocean
of thought
at times calm
other times
stormy
At times
gentle amusing
breezes
other times
screaming
hurricanes
At yet other times
no ocean at all
no sail, no rudder
no boat
No sailor
— 1261 —
Witness
It’s not so much
what we focus on
It’s all about
who’s focusing
— 1262 —
Traces
My nostrils are
a cloud chamber
tracing air particles
in and out
— 1263 —
Ego Food
Another’s
attention
is ego food
Fame
is ego heroin
— 1264 —
My Trajectory
Be air
Be peace
Cease—
Where Ceasing
encompasses
Ceasing
the Ceasing
— 1265 —
Anapanasati
When you breathe
absorb—
rather than
be absorbed by—
the air in
air out
— 1266 —
Egocide
By denying it thought
I am to starve
the ego
to peaceful death
— 1267 —
Conundrum
Am I doing?
Or do I imagine
that I do?
Or do I imagine
that I imagine
that I do?
— 1268 —
Knowing
The clearest
surest
purest
way to
truly know
is cease
not knowing
— 1269 —
Bhagavad Gita
As for the Gita
I’m with Arjuna
on this, really:
fuck this war
And yet,
Lord Krishna
insists:
this is but a game
please, go ahead
Play
— 1270 —
Stay Aware
Do not let
Samadhi
become
nothing more
than a pleasant
stupor
— 1271 —
The Gospel Truth
Any Canon—
Millennia of
smoothed edges
and rounded
corners
— 1272 —
Two Questions
Does the will
need space
to exist?
Does the will
need time
to operate?
— 1273 —
Straitjacket
Perceptionally
the body is
one hell of a
strange
straight jacket
— 1274 —
Creating Brain
As a fetus
creating brain
was a little like
knitting neurons
— 1275 —
Morning Wind
At about eight a.m.
God is up there
opening
the wind faucets
— 1276 —
Proof
And then
I experienced
the proof
that experience
is a proof
— 1277 —
Anapanasati
Being but air
singles my intent
and hones my
discerning focus
— 1278 —
Mental Images
If we stopped
mentally recording
everything
then Karma would
cease
— 1279 —
Language
As a writer
I do subscribe
to the lovely
logic
of language
— 1280 —
Imagination
Creation is
Imagination
with a small
helping of
steroids
— 1281 —
Stillness
Verily, I am
the stillness
inside you
to comfort
and guide you
— 1282 —
Maya
Maya—
Dependent
Origination:
The ultimate
Randomness
— 1283 —
Fragmentation
Once upon a time
God fragmented
This was an
impossible feat
— 1284 —
Sex as Synonym
Sex is a
one syllable
synonym
for temporary
madness
— 1285 —
Frugality
I aim to elevate
frugality
into a simple
artform
— 1286 —
The Maya Problem
Here’s the
Maya Problem:
If she never began
she is
(by definition)
Eternal
(Which is not
the case)
For she did begin
She is just
being a little
vague
about when
(precisely)
— 1287 —
Shedding Sheaths
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the bricks and mortar
of food
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the ever movement
of life
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the holography
of mind
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the clear sky
of intellect
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the ageless lie
of ego
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the laughing fountain
of bliss
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the Maya
of the many
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the sweet illusion
of space
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the width-less window
of Now
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the ever echo
of Me
It is the discerning
stillness that knows
the ever stillness
that knows
And thus Atman
And thus Brahman
— 1288 —
Emptiness
Of course
Nagarjuna’s
Emptiness
is Brahman
Of course
it is so
— 1289 —
Egocide
(Starving the Ego to Death)
The brain is not
your prison
Nor your skull
its walls—
These are
Ego walls
Opinions and beliefs
the bricks
Hungers and desires
the mortar
It feeds on thought
It drinks conviction
It breathes the very
need to be
Dead set on survival
at any cost
It will fight you
all the way
Deprive it of thought
even for a moment
and it will buck
and squirm
Discern and uproot
its many convictions
and watch it desiccate
Follow the ego-less air
at your nostrils
as it begins to fade
Be but air—
no thought
no dream
no Me
and the Ego
will starve
to death
— 1290 —
My Internal Life
It’s mostly
a matter of
dialogue
Even Wolfkus
(with myself)
Where I say, this
and you say, maybe
And I say, that
and you say, yes
Where you say, this
and I say, maybe
And you say, that
and I say, right
Where I say,
wait a minute
what on earth
am I thinking
about now?
— 1291 —
Coinwise
Seems to me
Letting go
and Un-be
are the
same side
of the
same coin
— 1292 —
Fingertips
When all is still
even the physical
is mental—
at fingertips
— 1293 —
Slaughter
At the base
of Truth Mountain
Man slaughtering Man
for the right of Path
— 1294 —
Debate
At the base
of Truth Mountain
Man debating Man
Path debating Path
— 1295 —
Faux I-Thought
Brahman thought
I am many
many eyes
I am many
many Is
Then made each
I think
I am one of
many eyes
one of
many Is
Happy Birthday
little Egos
— 1296 —
Bliss
Surely the bliss
of Nirvana is
simply relief
from Samsara
Surely the bliss
of sat-chit-ananda
is sheer relief
from Maya
— 1297 —
A Relevant Question
When, during gestation
does the brain-fuse occur?
Or is it at birth?
Either way—
Now, these many
years later
It re-fuses to un-fuse
I’m con-fused
— 1298 —
Sleight of Hand
Being the body
to sense the body—
Not a little
Sleight of hand
Being the mind
to sense the mind—
a finer sleighting of
the same hand
Body through body
and mind through mind—
What else will you
have me believe
For that which
never dies
to be reborn—
The cruelest
sleighting of all
— 1299 —
Thinking
I will never
think my way
out of think
or word my way
out of word
Or language
my way
out of language
or head my way
out of this head
for how can there
be an outside of
(or inside of)
an illusory
non-head head?
— 1300 —
Self-Enquiry
In the stillness
of samadhi
discern the
ultimate source
of self
— End —