My enemy, too, sits legs-folded
Inside nine lotuses, peach-fragrant,
And wherefore art thou human being?

My enemy believes harmony
But some forces will oppose merely
To pirouette like a mad compass

My enemy convinces – convicts
My body to lower the razor
When my companion moves: red echo

Can I pray without my enemy?
My mind-throat spills these dark arguments:
I am not my own worst enemy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s