greum maol stevenson

MonoNoAware

man on bicycle pedalling through summer rain smoking cigarette


Also published on Buddhistdoor Teahouse

#haiku #poetry #MonoNoAware

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City Cave Zen Sangha

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graffiti, the words LOVE AND LET DIE painted on a walking path

When we moved in five years ago, the bottom of this tower block was painted red, so daishin named it the Baboon. We have been happy living here, and we are happy to leave.

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This evening I reread Sam Hamill’s poem The Orchid Flower. I corresponded with him for years, though we never met. He is among the people who have died whom I cannot bring myself to delete from my email contacts, for reasons I do not understand. When he died in 2018, I wrote this poem:

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spicebush swallowtail butterfly

For two years, I lived on the edge of woods, on the outskirts of Chattanooga, Tennessee, between a sewage plant, an American Indian burial ground, and the state mental hospital.

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“is meaning created by language or language created by meaning?”

hot liquid poured fills cup stays there till you drink it   pour it out something else happens


Also published on Buddhistdoor Teahouse

#poetry #zen #impermanence #discourse #language #meaning #MonoNoAware

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City Cave Zen Sangha

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Red berries dripping with rain

This evening, I have been rereading passing through by Tom Leonard.

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Despite the denial, it is hard to be unaware of death if you pay attention when you walk around Glasgow.

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