Sitting in the Public Library
of Manhattan Beach, California
several miles south of L.A.,
I glance up from a biography of Susan Sontag
and see out the windows
the repetitive Pacific two blocks away.
Surfers in seal suits rest among swells ,
wait upon waves, alert to catch a sea heap
break into an urgent rush toward shore.
In a sea of books,
I drift over fathoms,
reading word after word,
page upon printed page,
until this sentence surges
up from the deep:
“Silence remains,
inescapably,
a form of speech.”
I catch this koan* of contradiction
and ride the question in its crest
toward the shore of noon and lunch.
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*koan = a Zen Buddhist riddle used by a teacher to
confuse a student into the experience of non-duality.