They came to camp. On their Own trails I followed my own... Trail here. Picked up the cold-drill, Pick, singlejack, and sack Of dynamite Ten thousand years.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
In dream you appeared (Three times in nine years)... Wild, cold, and accusing. I woke shamed and angry: The pointless wars of the heart.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Rain falls for centuries Soaking the loose rocks in space... Sweet rain, the fire's out The black snag glistens in the rain & the last wisp of smoke floats upLESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
If, after obtaining Buddhahood, anyone in my land gets tossed in jail on a vagrancy rap, may I... not attain highest perfect enlightenment.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »