tiny light

buddhism in poetry

the springing

the neutral
infant that
rests weightless
as light on the

and glimpse
the impact

like sexual smoke
into the notion
of emptiness

leap into
an aura of feathers
when the thought

sit between
two naked fires

neither assume
the primitive illusion
of a total universe
nor entertain
the harmony
of its idea

listen for the echo
of the beginning

and the drunken
river of time
that travels
the ancient wrinkle
of being

may shrivel
into a single
drop of stillness.



Nihilistic Poetry


Empty Buddha

Spit it out
Cough up the phlegm of phenomena
The chunks of feeling caught between your teeth
The stench of memories
The bleeding gums that dawn, love and despair have corroded
Hurl the amalgam of sensation that never concentrates into meaning
Release a belch from the oozing pit of pain
Drool a tiny string of age
Sneeze a jazz sound, a Pollock suspended in air
Spurt out onto napkins the vaulted skies
Sweat the burnt clay of slow and gentle hour
Let it out in trickles or exhalations the muddle and the smoke
Be done hurry become empty
Be empty before the fat feeds the fire
Before the bone becomes abysmal
Be empty – hurry



Absurd Poetry

total truth

The greatest liberation
came when I dropped
the pretension to happiness.
It was freedom from category,
from hope, from knowledge,
from purpose.
I immediately recognized
that reality has no meaning,
no destination, no description.
All happiness seemed trivial in its
relation to one condition or circumstance.
I preferred truth.
I did not find it in the philosophies, religions
and sciences.
The dawn of despair set in,
total and unequivocal,
but despite the existential ache that ensued,
it brought with its gloomy light the necessary
vision to initiate in truth:
the denial of all former values.
If existence was factually beyond
the reach of words,
it could not be grasped in recorded knowledge;
it could not be explained by the logical sequence
of premises and postulates;
if it had a truth, it needed to be
immediate and self-evident.
Truth cannot be imposed onto reality,
it would distort it otherwise.
Reality is the only truth –
and to discover what it is
I had to drop all attempts to define it…

merely become aware of it
and allow its transmutations
to speak its truth.


Nihilistic Poetry Blog

if there were

If there were something
to unify
I’d build a bridge
between partial reality
and the wholeness of nirvana;
had there been
something to rescue
I’d make an ark
from the planks of essence,
letting in, one by one, the species
of the invisible –
if there were something
with purpose
I’d carry it on my shoulders
till I could set it free
in a new meadow of illusion; –

if only there
were there something
other than me
around here.


Nihilistic Poetry Blog

when there is pain and surreal anxiety

Surreal Buddhist

I am heaping like an
of instances
dispersing as the floral
loop of sleep
tangibly draped with invisibility
the static beeping of my departure
witnessing the burst of egos
so uncontrollably distant from each other
in the topography of my identity
I am lost between the trees and the forest
I can’t see the wood
for the raw wildfire of my
all I am saying is that I have no control
in moments like these
being a Buddhist
would have been a good idea.

Modern Poetry Blog 

a chinese dream


It’s 3:10
I’m sober
reading Bukowski
still recovering
from my 48 hour
birthday binge,
the universe is still
a made-up word
for this bathroom
and the filling air,
yet I wish
I’d be reading
the great Chinese
soaring over improbable
lifting my veil of ignorance
seeing through the deceits of
untroubled by the vicissitudes
of time
at one with the universe
which is to say
inseparably and eternally here
with this white-tiled bathroom
and the air
that encircles me,
in drowning


nihilistic poetry