There once was a monk from Tangier
Whose prayers left him nothing to hear
But by embracing the violence
Of interminable silence
Did a mantra appear to his ear

There once was a monk from Bayonne
Who was blind to the beam he was shown
But by loving his eyes
Did he thus realize
There’s no way of knowing the known

There once was a monk from Ecuador
Who death and decay did deplore
But looking out from within
To the sign on the skin
Saw the body at best is metaphor

There once was a monk from Seville
Who set out to eradicate evil
But he learned all too soon
That one kills to consume
And the devil lives on in the angel

There once was a monk from Queens
Who demanded to know what it means
The mind when it’s one
Sees the two turn to none
And the real revealed in the seems

There once was a monk from Changchun
Whose disciples were eager and young
They called at his door
Like waves to a shore
Or like bells that have yet to be rung

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For a Villanelle by Preston, see here. For Improv Poetry, here. For a selection of poems, here. To hear Preston talk about shakuhachi and Zen, and to hear him play, please listen to the following podcast:
https://www.ancientdragon.org/podcast-library/