Here

               The plants that push up through the junk and the plastic, earlier, later, they’re coming,                   regardless... … the light shifts regardless. The truth is a kind of regardless. The winter’s nothing to me. Do you think I don’t know about power? You think I was born green? I was. … I’ll blow down that tree so it cracks your roof open. I’ll carpet your house with the                          river. But I’ll be the reason your own sap’s reviving. I’ll mainline the light to your veins. What’s under your road surface now? What’s under your house’s foundations? What’s warping your doors? What’s giving your world the fresh colours? What’s the key to the song of the bird?                           ...

                                                  The moon and sun are eternal travelers.  Even the years wander on.                                        A lifetime adrift in a boat or in old age leading a tired horse into the years,                                        every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.        ...

                                        … in the flattest part of North Dakota                                         on a starless moonless night                                         no breath of wind                                         a man could light a candle                                         then walk away                   ...

                                                            The commonplace miracle:                                                             that so many common miracles take place.                                                             The usual miracle:                                                             Invisible dogs barking               ...

                                           Wherever you are is called Here,                                            And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,                                            Must ask permission to know it and be known.                                                                                         ...

                              Tomorrow will have an island. Before night                               I always find it. Then on to the next island.                               These places hidden in the day separate                               and come forward if you beckon.                               But you have to know they are there before they exist.                                …              ...

            — Why does it always come to this!             — It’s all for you, honoured one.                                                                            Record of Dongshan 98                                          The music is a house of glass standing on a slope;                                          rocks are flying, rocks are rolling.                                          The rocks roll straight through the...