Wounds made by men.

"give me five" muhammad ali
photographed by lee trievnor

deep in a heavy wood there is a hollow

a clearing   a low place   dark   far back

hidden by pines and drifts of snow

here the government hides the corpses

of the murdered children   shot in their schools

stacked like wood   sorted by race and wealth

their many bullet holes are hidden by funeral clothes

their shattered skulls are covered by hats and hoods

uplifting music comes from hidden speakers

and at midnight the dead children rise to dance

-----

don't cry I said

to the old mountain

but then hiking up

I saw the many scars

wounds made by men

and I cried too

-----

Everyday you bicycle down perfect streets, past perfect houses where perfect people lead perfect lives. And you? Are you perfect, too? The LSD of your mind whispers of chaos and freedom and the non-conformist freedom that makes up the whole of you and your differences, and you are thankful for that. You can count the reasons for this gratitude on your fingers and toes, and on the spinning spokes of your bicycle wheels. Nothing is perfect, and isn’t that perfect?

by james lee jobe 

Light from the moon of clear mind

Drinks up everything in the world:

When ‘mind’ and ‘light’ both disappear,

What is this?

           

Death poem of Kyong Ho Sunim (1846-1912)

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Thanks, jlj