A Monotonic Riff by Hanque O . . .

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A Monotonic Riff

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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.

Hanque O . . .

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	surya surya (5/13/2009 9:13:00 PM)
	an interesting mistique poem.good write.posted 10 surya

	William Stoneberger (5/7/2009 8:33:00 PM)
	really wonderful piece here...the search for the answers that consume our lives... oh, what is the meaning? like the illusion to william carlos in there too...thanks...

	Catrina Heart (5/5/2009 9:16:00 PM)
	Why mountain climbers go always for the summit when there's nothing there except for the lovely vista? Is it the serenity that it brings? The delight you'll feel? Or the feeling of being in heaven even for the moment of peace? ................fabulous poem written!

	delilah contrapunctal (5/5/2009 7:53:00 PM)
	fine work, HqO.....thanks.... the sound....similar to one horse shoe landing in soft dust, is it: ? Take care and be well........ love, D.

	Clare Mcdonald (5/5/2009 9:04:00 AM)
	Brilliant! Too clever for mere words of description to be worthy of it. Nice one as always leaves the rest of us out in the cold. cem xx

	Tai Chi Italy (5/2/2009 12:12:00 PM)
	Wow! I was with you every tentative step of the climb Jim...wonderful work. Smiling at you, one hand clapping in rapturous applause. Tai

	Wojja Fink (5/2/2009 10:34:00 AM)
	oh how I laughed at the summit, and now I hear; the sound of one voice laughing...in a sea of quiet koans...

	Michael Shepherd (5/2/2009 5:35:00 AM)
	Hanque, this is a 'serious delight' - what more could one ask of poetry? Now I'll get around eagerly to the rest of your poetry.. Michael

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11/28/2009 11:43:52 PM. #.26# You Are Here: A Monotonic Riff by Hanque O . . .