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      July 4, 2019Will Buddhism Survive?Peter Harris

      Only if we all become that second baseman
      who dove to his right, snagged the liner, thudded
      to a stop on his belly, too late to get up or change
      hands, too late to do anything but what he could
      not do, had never tried, could not have done if he had tried:
      shovel the gloved ball backhanded over his back
      without looking to the shortstop. No,
      not to the shortstop, but to where the shortstop
      would be when he flew across the bag,
      barehanded the ball, toed the bag, swiveled,
      elevated above the maverick ox of truth barreling
      down on him from first, high enough to make the throw
      for the double play. Game over.
      The not-doable, done. Outside the scriptures.
      Outside thought: No sound at all inside
      the redundant thunder of applause.

      from #27 - Summer 2007

      Peter Harris

      “I’m ADD and a whore for the miraculous abridgements of metaphor. I’m also a Zen student who craves release from thought. It would be nice to wake up before I die. In the meantime, poetry stops the gap, does a bit to undo the illusion I am over here and you are over there.”