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
everything superfluous
from inside of you.

In the end, you’ll be empty
immovable
idle —
cicada song
human heartbeat
one.

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.


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