Grasping

The human mind is not capable of

grasping the Universe

The human

mind is not grapable of casping

the Universe

The not-Universe human is crasping

the not-grapable mind

Grasping the mind is not

the capable Universe

The mind of the Universe is not

not casping the grapable

Mind of human not

not-human

Capable universe

Of not is not

Grasp. Grasp. Grasp. Grasp.

Caught

That is not a very good poem, said the fly to the spider

Referring to its web

No, I’m afraid you misunderstand, said the spider

It is not a poem, but a net of silk threads to entrap you.

Dangerous

You might think there’s nothing more dangerous than a dangerous, dangerous dinosaur riding a dangerous, dangerous dirt bike over a dangerous, dangerous desert full of dangerous, dangerous dungeons.
But the most dangerous is not to know your own mind.

The Peg-Legged Beggar

The peg-legged beggar near the bridge

Observes the stream go by

The sun is hot; he sees a hawk

And hears a field mouse cry.

He dips his non-peg-leg inside

The ever-rushing stream

The sun collects itself into

A burning noon-light beam.

He doesn’t feel refreshed

To feel the stream on non-peg skin

He switches; dips inside the stream

His worn and wooden limb.

At last, a rush of calm and cool!

His peg-leg cannot feel

But wood is wise, and has a knack

For sensing out the real.

Crazy Old Man

I am a typical-looking old man and I went to a public bathroom

There was an image of an old man there

“Are you a mirror?” I asked the image

“No, I’m another old man,” said the image

I was frightened, and ran off

Back to my home, which I know has some mirrors

I know I should be grateful that I’m not the only old man in the world

But I wish I could tell the difference better between Mirrors and Other Me’s.

Gastronomic Recidivism

One time, alone

I ate

A thing

I shouldn’t have.

It was

A thing

I shouldn’t eat

(I ate).

I wish that I

Could say

I never

Ate

That thing

Again.

But once

Is not

Enough

For eating

Things

You shouldn’t

Eat.

The Witch

Good riddance
Said the witch
She had just burned off the wart
That had once defined her sense of beauty and identity.