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An original poem by Robin Artisson
(entitled "Untitled"):
He said that everything should be "Zen."
He said we'd be born all over again.
So when there is death, should we grieve?
Will you keep coming back? Who makes you leave?
What is the sound of one hand slapping?
What is the sound of my ass chapping?
I try my best to make everything Zennish
But I'm drawing a blank ... from start to finish.
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