True Affluence Is To Not Need Anything.

Lay Down These Words Before Your Mind Like Rocks. Placed Solid, By Hands In Choice Of Place, Set Before The Body Of The Mind In Space And Time: Solidity Of Bark, Leaf, Or Wall Riprap Of Things: Cobble Of Milky Way. Straying Planets, These Poems, People, Lost Ponies With Dragging Saddles -- And Rocky Sure-foot Trails. The Worlds Like An Endless Four-dimensional Game Of Go. Ants And Pebbles In The Thin Loam, Each Rock A Word A Creek-washed Stone Granite: Ingrained With Torment Of Fire And Weight Crystal And Sediment Linked Hot All Change, In Thoughts, As Well As Things.

The Best Thing You Can Do For The Planet Is To Stay Home.

In The Belly Of The Furnace Of Creativity Is A Sexual Fire; The Flames Twine About Each Other In Fear And Delight. The Same Sort Of Coiling, At A Cooler, Slower Pace, Is What The Life Of This Planet Looks Like. The Enormous Spirals Of Typhoons, The Twists And Turns Of Mountain Ranges And Gorges, The Waves And The Deep Ocean Currents - A Dragonlike Writhing.

We . . . Must Try To Live Without Causing Unnecessary Harm, Not Just To Fellow Humans But To All Beings. We Must Try Not To Be Stingy, Or To Exploit Others. There Will Be Enough Pain In The World As It Is.

If, After Obtaining Buddhahood, Anyone In My Land Gets Tossed In Jail On A Vagrancy Rap, May I Not Attain Highest Perfect Enlightenment.