Wild parrots in a storm on Russian Hill
Screech their one vowel and eat the cherry blossoms,
Not bothered by February rain and wind.
Buddhism here in the Bay is fresh and cool.
In Seoul it seemed aloof and feudal: the abbot,
His minyan of monks…all in my mind, of course:
What do I know about it? I meditate
Something like how I learned to chant the prayers
Made of the sounds the flame-shaped letters made.
Straight back. Each breath considered. One same word
Imagined in a region preceding speech
To restore in silence the mystery of speech.
The teaching says, If you are feeling depressed
You need to think about death more of the time.
The regular breath, keeping to its one place.
—Robert Pinsky
Robert Pinsky’s most recent book is At the Foundling Hospital.
