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Listen to the voice of the wind
in the pines
when no wind blows.
Become a pen
in the sun's hand.
We need for the earth to sing
through our pores and eyes.
We sit together,
the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
(Ryoko, Hafiz, and Li Po, respectively.)
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...
Listen to the voice of the wind
in the pines
when no wind blows.
Become a pen
in the sun's hand.
We need for the earth to sing
through our pores and eyes.
We sit together,
the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
...
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I play my shakuhachi
over and over again.
One bare dim bulb
Echo of Greyhound Bus Station men's room door
swinging shut.
<GASSHO>
Last edited by benjo (2006-09-07 12:09:58)
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Benjo,
Haven't heard from you lately around here. We missed you:) Guess you've been in deep meditation down at the Greyhound
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Josh wrote:
Benjo,
Haven't heard from you lately around here. We missed you:) Guess you've been in deep meditation down at the Greyhound
Master was being too mean. Too much meditation on MD 2020.
Had to go on Shakuhachi 12-step Program. Now I write zen shakuhachi poems instead.
<gassho>
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I don't think it's really Zen, but I came to a great realization after chanting these 3 words in succession:
Ohwa,
Tagu,
Siam
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dstone wrote:
radi0gnome wrote:
Ohwa,
Tagu,
SiamDa
Tsagu
Dwan!
This thoughtful poetry makes me want to play on my shakuhachi,
"Yearning for the Mogen David" and "Greyhound Bus Station Jishi"
What Joy!
<gassho>
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