Breeze —(Listen)






I dreamt I was dreaming in Chinese

I didn’t understand my dream 
but its calligraphy was clear
as the silken brush of breeze

The characters Lao Tzu climbed behind my open eyes
but said as little as they could mounting nothing hill
obliquely vanishing between two skies

I came upon a Buddha sitting wise as a pictograph without a word,
silently loquacious, musical, mute,
unheard as an muzzled mourning dove

In this dream I’m free of words and guile as Buddha’s smile


by Jim Culleny


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