The Koan
You pinch the pillow that lies across your stomach
And shake it, shake it vigorously.
"What are you doing?" I ask. "What
Are you doing to that pillow?" You answer,
"Self-actualizing it."
I laugh, but this is horrible.
I do not trust the world.
I do not trust your friends.
I invent magic to control the fear:
Because the moon is waxing full
You will get well,
Because the days grow long
You will grow stronger.
I feel I may tear away from this world
And live only in rage and accusations.
I want to fly from this sickly, mundane place
And its endless Now
And be apart where there's only you and me.
I want to be the one who saves you.
Instead, half stapled shut, half beyond
Your body and all mindfulness,
You rebuke me.
I am pinched and shaken,
And only now begin to see my self.
December 23, 1998