Sunday, April 20, 2008

More Silence

Seize more silence. Thanks for being make no sense. If not you who? Absent resistance, I sink like a stone Buddha, eager for mud, indifferent to meaning. Is that what love is? No escaping rhythm. Shelves of books now gone became a faith in writing. What could not be said could be written down. Someone will scrutinize the words arising, before fleeing—but there is no place to go. We are here or not.

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