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Found 2 results

  1. Once Ikkyu, clad in his customary shabby robe and tattered hat, went to beg at the door of a wealthy family's home. He was roughly ordered around to the back of the estate and given scraps. The following day, Ikkyu appeared at a vegetarian feast sponsored by the family, but this time Ikkyu was decked out in the brocade robes of an abbot. When the large tray of food was placed before him, Ikkyu removed his stiff robe and arranged it in front of the tray. "What are you doing?" the startled host asked. "The food belongs to the robe, not to me," Ikkyu replied as he got up to leave. John Stevens : Wild Ways
  2. Crazy Saints

    Embodying the role of saintly heretic, revealing the hypocricies of man, meshed in throes of hypocrisy; not bound, not free, no worry: night plum blossoms spreading under a branch between her thighs narcissus revolves smell it? she'd play with it almost anywhere day and night touch it with the deepest part of herself a beautiful woman's hot vagina's full of love I've given up trying to put out the fire of my body a butterfly hovers in front of her face how long will she sleep Eight inches strong, it is my favourite thing; If I'm alone at night, I embrace it fully - A beautiful woman hasn't touched it for ages. Within my fundoshi there is an entire universe! My Hovel trans. by John Stevens The world before my eyes is wan and wasted just like me. The earth is decrepit, the sky stormy, all the grass withered. No spring breeze even at this late date, Just winter clouds swallowing up my tiny reed hut. Crazy Cloud is a demon in Daito’s line But he hates the hellish bickering. What good are old koans and faded traditions? No use complaining any more, I’ll just rely on my inner treasures. My real dwelling Has no pillars And no roof either So rain cannot soak it And wind cannot blow it down Every day priests minutely examine the Dharma And endlessly chant complicated sutras. Before doing that, though, they should learn How to read the love letters sent by the wind and rain, the snow and moon. Crow With No Mouth versions by Stephen Berg Hearing a crow with no mouth Cry in the deep Darkness of the night I feel a longing for My father before he was born ~ trans. by Soiku Shigematsu Void In Form When, just as they are, White dewdrops gather On scarlet maple leaves Regard the scarlet beads! Form In Void The tree is stripped, All color, fragrance gone, Yet already on the bough, Uncaring spring! mirror facing a mirror nowhere else the mind is exactly this tree that grass without thought or feeling both disappear not two not one either and the unpainted breeze in the ink painting feels cool nobody before me nobody after writing it nobody knows shit nobody lives anywhere hello dust! pine needles inches deep hug the ground no one lives here all koans just lead you on but not the delicious pussy of the young girls I go down on thirsty you dream of water cold you want fire not me I want the firm warm breasts and wetness of a woman a crazy lecher shuttling between whorehouse and bar this past master paints south north east west with his cock ten years of whorehouse joy I'm alone now in the mountains the pines are like a jail the wind scratches my skin the crow's caw was ok but one night with a lovely whore opened a wisdom deeper than what that bird said ...Among those who came to him for guidance was Murata Shuko, the most eminent tea ceremony master of the day. Visiting Ikkyu, he was asked what he thought of Master Joshu's well known reference to tea drinking (in spite of their different responses, Joshu invariably said to three monks training under him "Have a cup of tea"). Shuko remained silent, and at last Ikkyu served him a cup of tea. As Shuko lifted the cup to his lips, Ikkyu let out with a Zen shout and smashed the cup with his iron nyoi (Buddhist implement). Shuko made a deep bow. "What are you like" Ikkyu said, "when you've no intention of taking tea?" Without answering, Shuko got up and moved toward the door, "Stop," Ikkyu replied. "What are you like when you've taken tea?" "The willow is green," Shuko said, "the rose is red." Ikkyu, approving of Shuko's grasp of Zen, smiled broadly. ... - A short bio. Keep note, that "Red Thread Zen" is not an actual Zen lineage and that he had a daughter, not a son. - Preview of "Wild Ways" by John Stevens - Selected poems by John Stevens and Stephen Berg