The Question: if you meet the buddha on the N/Q train to Queens, kill him.
February 10th 2013 Only a second: the span separating a drink from a sip. It slipped into that space effortlessly. Just an innocent question. The kind you ask a memory that has disappeared into an incomprehensible life elsewhere.
“How is NYC? How is it to be back in the USA?”
The Question. The returnee’s kōan, the sound of one hand clapping.
Sooner or later, it always comes, but no one really wants the com
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