by Jason Ryberg
Put Your Ears on, Good Buddy
We know only what
the night graciously concedes
to share with us (though
they say the music of the
spheres is always some-
where in the background, or, some-
times, right there in your
face (if you have your ears on
straight, good buddy, and
your frequency dialed in to
that universal
sweet spot centered between 1
and negative-1 /
being and non-being / that
narrow neutral zone
where time and space often come
to an abrupt halt
along their concentrically
circular paths, where
the uncarved block becomes the
chopping block and the
Gordian Knot of the much
philosophized and
much mythologized double-
bind loosens and comes undone)).
The Totality of What Isn’t There
That unassuming
little zero hiding there
in plain site on the
integer line between 1
and negative-1
might, one day, stretch and yawn and
swallow the universe, whole.
It’s Like Following Footprints
in the Sand; Do Not Confuse the
Footprints for the Feet, Themselves
One day, while I was
retracing my own footprints
along the hybrid,
winding path of being and
non-being (being
as careful as I could not
to confuse them for
my feet (the sun, much like a
flaming Buddhist monk,
suspended in the sky, and
the wind, very much
like the tattered fabric of
memory, flapping,
uncontrollably around
me)), I came upon
a man dressed as a monkey
(or a monkey dressed-
up as a man, maybe?) who
had, apparently,
fallen from a tree and was
having a bit of
an identity crisis,
muttering, over
and over, to himself, man
or monkey, monkey
or man?, until I said, my
good man, why can’t you be both?
Add comment