poem/essay by Brian Glaser
1.
The source of wisdom in you
cannot be exhausted by your limbs
nor by the tongue in your mouth.
If you seek to exhaust it,
loss will resound like laughter,
laughter only you understand.
If you trust yourself, truly,
you may be remembered for many generations—
the source of wisdom in you
is laughter at laughter,
autumn, a young gardener at dusk.
2.
Anger
is like honey.
It keeps forever;
it rewards you.
Mind-way accepts anger,
it does not ask it to be
the uroboros,—
we breathe with two lungs,
one mouth,
two nostrils,
one body.
3.
Origins:
redwoods in memory,
their loneliness
among so many of their kind.
What is your question
for life?
So many choose
to leave the universe
as they found it—
I believe it is their choice,—
to listen.
4.
The experience of giving up—
white shirt,
white flag.
The song of experience
is like a zombie’s cataract.
Lay it to rest,
the sack of this word.
Children will learn on instruments
yet unmade.
The dance of madness
is like a distant wind—
to experience
the intimate freedom of infinite space.
5.
Mirror in mirror:
Spiegel im Spiegel—
to live without teleology,
if you are able—
inner destiny.
It’s different,
they assured me,
the survivors.
Neither better nor worse.
The sky in a coffin,
the ethical sunflower,—
laughter at laughter,
a young gardener at dusk.
6.
On principle—
the sewn seams you loved
in your childhood blanket,
opal, microtextured,
the smallest sensory pleasures
at the soft tips
of your fingers,
ridges and edges—
keep your love of principles
close to you.
7.
Young man,
they wanted you to be the best
so they could come for you
with their imagination
like a syndicate.
It takes others
to make one the best.
What age wants from youth,
a fibrous fire.
Don’t be afraid to be the best—
slender reed,
that bit, ever better.