kedungu, bali, august 2026 late night sleep dripping away to be quit of writing continue writing such verses as who writes who who frees who you inexhaustible who words thin chirping of insects scattered barking around the village temple aircon droning on nothing holds them back they learned to look past your mirrors words it's morning can't say days follow unfollowing is flow why a sage once said the sound of the valley never dies

kyoto, july 2026 in memoriam maria englehart morning sitting next to no one together listening to the burble of the rain

does a dog have buddha nature no mind circles around the kōan the dog takes a book from the shelf rips it apart you are battered and bruised now david chadwick's dedica intact on the verso from me to you your hand still trembles in the graph on the half title page these words zen is right now