At the foot
of the mountain
I draw boot laces tight
and climb
in search of the answer
to the most asked and most mocked koan
what is the sound of one hand clapping
I must know
and in the ascent
I prepare for disappointment
for this I do know
there is no guru waiting at the top
I know there is no answer to this koan
or any koan
for if there were
it would not be a koan
still
I climb
because I suspect
that if I may not know with assurance
then I may know peace
and
after all
isn’t that the point
no
that is not the point at all
it is selfish
and
in fact
pointless
still
with head down
I place one foot above the other
and climb
and the summit is distant
and the summit is near
and I reach the summit
of this great mountain
and reality tells me
the summit is cold
and barren of life
but mine
that no guru awaits
that the guru is a mythical beast
like James Bond
or Big Bad Leroy Brown
a summit
with its air of foreverness
is a lonely place
despite the vista
it offers nothing
why must I know
because I must
of course
because
like a red wheel barrow
so much depends upon it
it is cold
I am hungry and disappointed
there is no way to prepare for disappointment
I must know
because
because
because
because
because
I must
I take off my puffy down coat
I take off my shirt
I take off my pants
and all else
until I am naked
and I raise my arms Christ like
and prepare
to end this journey
with an answer
or die trying
is it cold
am I not a man
yes
it is friggin’ cold
and my manhood is but a little joke
and my skin has gone blue
and my teeth chatter until they are but broken chips
and I feel myself dying
slowly
and rejoice in my dying
it is my privilege to die
I am honored to die
do I die for you
no
I am not Christ
I am cold
I am weak
and in my weakness
I clap my hands together for the warmth
I clap my hands three times
as if summoning a genie
I clap until one hand freezes and shatters
and falls away into the void
I am left with one hand
which I clap
and hear the sound of one hand clapping.