Chanting the sacred readings
Take place at the bottom of the abyss
Where to avoid obstacles
In order to get on the subject
A subject without inside or outside.

The quest for what is inside of being
Don't stop yourself from being wandering
On the edge of a pure and bright river
With only proof of life
The indolence and indecency of absence.

There remains this emotion in the back of your throat
The open barn door
The reception by the shower dispensed
Drop by drop of thoughts falling from the roof
Dry feet.

What saddens me
These are the rough paths of memory
Scattered straw tremolos in all winds
Very heavy to carry
For those who try to mint money.

Let's not die after every failure
The world is big, the earth is rich
The almond blossoms fly away
Behind the fence
Where every lesson is to be learned.

Above the sky without consciousness or unconsciousness
Below in round slippers the chilliness
And to make existence even more tactile
Incense sticks
Between numb fingers.

Before the mind surrenders to illusion
Let's go through recognition
Welcoming the eons of childhood
In the depths of what has neither face nor back
This sleeper when windows are absent.

In a blue sky
Nothing but my heart
With lantern
The moon
Together may the clean shadow never be saddened.

Some days
I gather a few pieces of wood
For early winter
Make sticks in the fire of the soul
In the non-existent moment of non-action.

Dance of the fireflies
As we get older
Between the stone and the hearth fire
Rise the crackle of the flame
High adornment for the white-haired man.

Open up through the five senses
At the tip of the pen
Like wrapping the bone in skin
Causes bright light
Waiting for flight.

Defy what people will say
Drink while singing
A full stomach
Let's know how to frame this marvel
In the crevice of the poem.

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