If you apprentice yourself
to the steam surrounding Zen master Cicada,
I have to warn you:
Through the long reverberating waves
and short-pulsing bursts of his teaching
something will be installed within you.
A hot glowing coal of knowledge
that slowly burns out
from inside of you.
In the end, you’ll be empty
You can’t make plans anymore
look for an angle
pine after old loves
or would-be ones.
Ego’s factory and distribution center
has a sign out front that reads:
Closed for Business.
You’ve become a ghost, prematurely,
in a world quickly on its own way to dying.
Now, there is only watching the years trot by
waiting for the body to catch up
with the inevitable —
which Cicada Mind
is already most intimate.
(c) 2019 Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com