*image by Ben Harubin

There was once a man who could make noises that would upset birds, but not
noises that upset himself;
he is what is known as --
half alive and half dead,
half here and half not,
half himself and half himself,
waiting for the two to meet.
Wait on, brave warrior,
wait on, you noise maker you!

But things will be exactly like they've always been, even should you wake yourself up.
Why not totally drop dead now -- now, when it could mean something?

With understanding comes a cessation of coming-and-going.

Thursday's Poem: Here's The Deal
Okay, here's the deal.
Nothing begins and nothing ends,
and only thoughts otherwise in between.

A man said to a mystic, "I am a literate man -- an intellectual man -- a man
thoroughly fascinated by words and the life of the mind."
And to himself the mystic said, "And from our view, also a dead man (from
the equator up)."
Remember, boys and girls: Travel doesn't kill people, geography does.

A man with a hunting dog lived by a river, and the dog would continually
"point" to the river...and the man would continually try to go catch the river.
(The dog thought the man was an idiot.)

The "knowledge" that men ordinarily have of themselves is no more than
always after-the-fact, impotent, mental notations, and of no more usefulness
in the lives they actually lead than are x-rays in the treatment of the
broken bone pictured.