When Panshan Baoji was near death, he said to the monks, “Is there anyone among you who can draw my likeness?”
Many of the monks made drawings for Panshan, but none were to his liking.
The monk Puhua stepped forward and said, “I can draw it.”
Panshan said, “Why don’t you show it to me?”
Puhua then turned a somersault and went out.
Panshan said, “Someday, that fellow will teach others in a crazy manner!”
Having said these words, Panshan passed away.
The critics outside of criticism feel unscalable,
And he let down the rope ladder from the treehouse.
up and selected a cigar, posed to me in the humidor.
it as he spoke. What I mean to say is that
wowed by how starchy this pear has become.
you ask. The pear of literature, made stiff
who think they’re in the know. They’re wrong!
to go, he continued, picking apart a leaf, is
loose: to unbung the still hole in the world’s core.