Basho and His Brohams Doing Nondual Haiku

[Guest guest]

Listening in on Lovers sighing Sufi sonnets, Rumi and Coleman, gate ana,

hopping Basho & bud's Buddha bones of brevity and breaking the code,

going gold in the cuckold of clever advaita mating every concept, com(I)Kali

Come anu tear down my House and I Will Give'a You Can't-die ...

courtesy of the Can-dye Karma Co. "close-out cell"

 

 

Basho and his brohams hammed it up, soham-jammed it up, got dandy,

handing candy of complicity with duplicity dipped in nondual

D'Ohtage. Notage: Maya and the Absolute...OneAvaDude WhoDo'd the

nondual voodoo of YooHoo...

 

 

...."There is a Passion in me that doesn't long for anything

from another human being....

the hat I wore in both worlds fell off.

 

It doesn't matter.

It really doesn't matter.

 

One morning I went to a place beyond dawn.

A source of sweetness that flows and is never less.

I have been shown a beauty that would confuse both worlds.

But I won't cause that uproar.

 

I am nothing but a head

set upon the ground as a gift for Shams.

 

~ Rumi

 

 

 

 

Basho and the Haijin Howlers in "Ahhh, that Vasana Greeter,"

the Ashtavakra-Gita Nipponaise Nova-Sutra Glad-About of Haiku-Nondual

Nowment endowment of This. Just. This. Jest-hits to the Heart of

Truth.

 

Basho, beating the drum of non-existence with His Beautiful

Belief-Relievers in rite and ripe Revele of Aha -

 

 

How is it that I hear

the noise of creaking oars

in the deepest mountains?

 

Because of the ripening fruits

that rub against the wood as oars do.

 

 

 

 

It has passed midnight,

I no longer wait for you,

pining for sorrow.

 

Oh, dear, I overslept,

wanting to see you in the dream.

 

 

 

 

The horse grazing on the bank

seems to me black in colour,

 

I think it otherwise,

for its reflection in the paddy

says chestnut-brown.

 

 

 

 

I wonder how it is now

in the ancient capital of Nara.

 

Those time-honoured cherries

that bloom in double flowers

must be in their autumnal tints.

 

Each rain of fall brings forth

ever-deepening colours in their leaves.

 

 

 

 

In a perfect circle

rises the spring day,

but it gains an enormous length

by the time it sinks.

 

To the moon in the sky

if you put a handle,

it will certainly be

an excellent fan.

 

A hanging willow

in a beautiful green

paints eyebrows

on the brow of a cliff.

 

Not in the flower

but rather in the nose

the smell resides -

so it seems to me.

 

 

 

 

I wanted, yet not quite wanted,

to use my sword to kill a man.

 

Capturing a thief,

I was surprised to find him

none but my own son.

 

 

Long rain of May,

the whole world is

a single sheet of paper

under the clouds.

 

 

 

 

Exactly in the shape of

a letter in the Dutch alphabet

lies in the sky

a band of wild geese.

 

 

 

 

Saying, 'Shishi, shishi,'

my wife encourages the baby

to pass water, and I hear

the noise of a morning shower.

 

 

 

 

Thus gathered in a company,

we have in the midst of us

a tree of laughter and talk,

a fragrant plum tree.

 

 

 

 

On a misty morning,

a line of smoke from my pipe

is broken sideways.

 

 

 

~ from: Basho: The Narrow Road To The Deep North And Other Travel

Sketches, translated from the Japanese by Nobuyuki Yuasa

 

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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