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When the tears of the dragon

(March 11, tsunami Japan)


The memory is zazen mind.
nerves bend and stretch
tremble


-too hard-but I must resist.
A thought that I did not think.


Lullaby of Edo and the great wave from the corner of the desk *

Shakes the insomnia in the dark,
whispers, like wanting to apologize;
great clairvoyance, terrible art. Zazen
mental
-resist-
even when the limbs of compassion

painful sting me the eye.

When the ocean from the cold tongue

extended frost on the rice fields, only the

know nothing within nothing,
and this can not succumb
but I can hear the celestial dragon **

crying on the roof of the Golden Pavilion





panel Katsushika Hokusai
* ** For the followers of the sect Buddhist contemplative Chan (or Zen in Japan), the dragon represents the vision fleeting, instantaneous and fleeting illusion of truth, and was then treated to a cosmic event. On the other hand, for the dragon was the Taoist Tao itself, incarnate, that is the Way, the omnipresent power that is revealed to us in a flash to fade immediately.

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sweat




When the sweat
was swept away by the embroidered handkerchiefs of right-thinking people, when it ceased to act
progressive
inversely proportional to the colors,
when the music off once the falsehood

back on their faces as the last clown tears and pus

squatting unisex bathroom on the floor, paralyzed when friends

idea of \u200b\u200badventure
-parked car

meticulously within the strips back to bed

-eyed in the dark as reflections of spiders
obese
Lou attracted by the mystery
-amphetamine-adventurer returned from the unknown

met that evening in the discorgia
stoned repression
among heroin users of self-deception.


With a mouth full of passenger Iggy *
found him outside the gate,

true as anyone who does not wait
and can occur anywhere.
you would not know his name, he asked if
had never been arrested for kidnapping
in love, driving
she saw a flash oblique

extend from the horizon up to his chest like a barb-

senseless in the mind artist. Then
Guide and
nullaqui attracted to the whole.


roadside
promised to meet again in
without names-so-
Semaphores
flashing like hyenas metropolitan
laughed to death of yet
oath.

Zeb Atlas Amd Mark Dalton

Tale of a temptation





in bodily form like shadows of clouds
low
asphalt without flowers.



You ask "how much it weighs, in terms of net
wonder my eye that follows
improvised rhythm of your step"
seem dreamy
the last of the spectators in a dimly lit jazz bar in Belleville.

say "back in the spring,
is not true that * Waits sings, you can return it
Spring!
Would you kiss me now?"


Shadows of clouds low, rolling down the throat-

hair as teenagers.
"But kiss me now!" -
and an army of golden flakes.
How will I not succumb?
For too long, the eyes seemed
subtitles of a bad movie and now your
, true as the screeching of the wind that

colorful banners while you become an ally
say "kiss me but now, now that I found you!" The leaves seem


confetti
a carnival-old
spectra of divinity
Temptation "Kiss it now!" Cheeks red as childish
bites the pillow.


I could offset the arms of solitude, this web
of an old-fashioned loyalty and support
mouth about your
only now I see that as a moon of July

furious-
resigned in a sky that falls down on me if I act
- a skeptic schiaccciato a miracle-
" Kiss me now, baby monster "and I
with the nail on the painful shoulder
" bite me then "- with his mouth and wisdom
of rum-" bite me,
shoulders, eye, bite me, eat me
, lie to me, but Be true!
out of that world to which swings like a carousel

off in a field of autumn ... " And I

on your lips.







* You can never hold spring-back Tom Waits