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> Self

>  .

> When I show up, it withdrews.

> When I leave, it appears.

> What chance have I

> To see myself not being here ?

>

> Pete

>

> Reflected Self

>

> I saw a moth flying trough water

> a sluggish, drenched, doomed flight.

> And so, the moth and I

>  in a reflection flounder

> and slowly perish

> in an inverted sky.

>     

> " Everything is reflection, "

>

>  All appearances:

> The sky, the water, the moth,

> The man, the lake.

> All appearing within an appearance,

> Vanishing within a vanishing

> coming and going without end.

>

> Pete

 

 

All that I know is delusion.

The sum of my wisdom:

a heap of ashes after too many cigarettes.

My most profound words amount to a

single dead leaf rustling in smog-filled, yellow wind.

 

Words chasing each other

leaving no trace.

 

I have nothing to say,

yet I write.

 

A cigarette --

a sip of soju

feelings vanish,

keep coming.

 

Joe

 

 

 

 

 

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