on meaning

I suspect I am not the only one for whom the Zen aesthetic is just plain boring, and whose attention is held only briefly by austere, decontextualized fragments. We were simply made for more.

I have read the haiku masters and my overall feeling about them is that they are very hit-and-miss. There is something fatalistic in their ephemerality. One can never rest content for long in their little poetic worlds without feeling that something massive is lacking. Something like life.

This isn’t to say that they are valueless and wholly devoid of truth. But, rather, as a small rabbit once said regarding poems of this kind,

a thing can be true

and still be desperate folly.