Stolen embers of the fire of the gods
barely flickering in an empty room at dusk,
beneath a forgotten attic,
where a flock of geese can sometimes roost;
Listening to voices,
dreaming that voices speak of something,
to someone — perhaps.
There is no other place —
except another place.


It would be a terrible waste of space-time if there were no observers.


Klein-bottle points on Indra’s net of gems, a hologram;
each point, the Cosmos; each wave, the ocean;
asleep in dreams of space-time.


I was 16 once.
No, someone else was, an imposter,
am imposter with the same name.
Each moment steals the preceding moment.
Each moment dies into the following moment.
There is only one moment, seen from different angles,
sub specie aeternitatis.
A clod or ashes,
the void between the atoms,
the void between the stars,
the real ” .”


Males ought to be born older, perhaps posthumously.


Dogs, corrupted by humans, still have more innate ‘conscience’ than humans. But wolves have more ‘conscience’ than dogs. Perhaps wolves are more honorable than men.



Oh, my, no satori today!

Oh, my, I still have attachments …

Woe is me, no enlightenment today.

I’ve got to intellectually analyze why I can’t stop intellectually analyzing.


if I have fifty more years to be ‘i’dentified with my ‘i’dentification

something may be possible.

A certain something …

But I Hunger and Thirst

… for the taste of Vagueness.

Can I coat my ‘higher-being bodies’ by bullshitting?

Oh, my, no satori today …

not now …

no enlightenment today …

not now …

I’ve got to analyze why I can’t stop analyzing.

Original realization is marvelous practice.”— Dogen

Practice makes practice.