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An accidental poem

Transcribed from today’s seminar notes, riffing off something Alan was saying:

A grand philosophical theme. 
We begin in the abstract:
Zen: the unity of man and nature.
But the real work
is in the nostril
as a big black vertical
inhaling
the horizontal plane
of the chrysanthemum’s petals
traveling up the diagonal of the neck
and filling the head with sweet fragrance,
the man with no one to confide in but the white of the page.

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