by Jenny, Executive Editor

Does the vision of Zen precede darkness?
Does it back you to the stony wall of its own argument- four carved faces of Presidents, and the debris of idealism?
It is hard to ruin.
Will Zen cause you to pace the unwashed floor of the jailhouse, fist pounding each cell door, demanding an inhuman response?
It is hard to respond to.
Will Zen greet you like a star-spangled electrocution, the acknowledgment of your final meal?
It is hard to reconcile with.
We are the luscious, manicured blooms of meditation,
our skin is a sound that reacts with other sound on the grounds of our own reality.
Our Zen is a salt-statue of the wedding bed;
It is just as Western as the sun’s final face.


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LANDFILLS is a grassroots literary, arts and culture online collective based in Chicago. All work is original, except the featured images that accompany text posts (which are blatantly stolen from tumblr.com). Complaints should be directed to Po via Twitter.
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