Friday, April 20, 2012

Bodhisattvas I Have Known

A bee approaches the window, a birch leaf spins madly, testifying to the breeze. You can stand a long time seeing nothing and for what? Yet studying the sentences one learns that they are essentially repeating themselves and not in a good - a Gertrude Stein - way. Fructive silence is the best silence. Thus one remains unenlightened.

Think of all the Bodhisattvas I have known . . . Or, another way to think of it, all the walls I've chosen not to dissemble. Keep your hill, I'm partial to the cross at its summit. Lines on a page leading one where. To lilac at last?

The neighbor's chickens come over to scratch the dust near the fence. The movie got the execution scene wrong, as if to remind me that narrative and truth are often at odds. He wrote a poem during halftime. Later the pain came and then she spoke convincingly about our burgeoning need for healing. The students write when I ask them to write.

Say please please! Forgo vegetarianism. Be very discerning regarding the consumption of that which causes you conflict. Grumble grumble grumble. And yet you are always there and I feel you and it makes me glad.

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