Zen Sand Garden

Poetry's value is hiding in no value.

Language games don't play 
and winners are sand grains 
wetted by the tide.

A footprint is a stanza.
A castle is a verse. 
A word is a wave.

It's another quiet night.
I have a rake.

I'll sweep the purpose dirt 
Into piles and ditches and plateaus 
And dream and wake and forget.

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