Paul Boccaccio

Somewhere Dōgen wrote about the number of moments in the snap of a finger. I don’t remember the exact figure, only that it was large and seemed quite arbitrary and absurd, but I imagine that when I am in the cockpit of my plane, aiming the nose at the hull of an American battleship, every […]

After reading Dharma Bums I looked up the poetry of Han Shan, translated by Gary Snyder. A few: In a tangle of cliffs, I chose a place— Bird paths, but no trails for me. What’s beyond the yard? White clouds clinging to vague rocks. Now I’ve lived here—how many years— Again and again, spring and […]