Love your quote here Jesse. The heading "no more zen" also put me in mind of a poem by James Tate, called "The End of Zen": There was a very tiny frog sitting on a fallen leaf staring into space and hoping for an aphid tofly by. A boy spotted it and picked it up and tookit into his house to show his mother and sister.They loved it and made a little home for it in aninsect box. Nobody thought about the little frog’sfamily. Two days later they returned the frog tothe very same leaf upon which they had found it.It was a day of solemn, good news. An hour or sopassed, and then a golden mayfly flew by. The frogjumped and swallowed it.
Excellent!I wrote Tate a fanboy note almost 30 years ago, smitten by the early collections, Viper Jazz, Rowing With Your Hair, et al.The Buddhists have the ball field. Then the teamsarrive, nine on one, but only three on the other.The teams confront the Buddhists. The Buddhistspresent their permit. There is little point inarguing it, for the Buddhists clearly have thepermit for the field. And the teams have nothing,not even two complete teams. It occurs to one teammanager to interest the Buddhists in joining histeam, but the Buddhists won’t hear of it. The teamswalk away with their heads hung low. A gentle rainbegins. It would have been called anyways, theythink suddenly.~ James Tate, The Buddhists Have The Ball Field
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