• To rid the grass of weed, to get
    The whole root,
    Thick, tangled, takes a strong mind

    And desire - to make clean, make pure.
    The weed, tough
    As the rock it leaps against,

    Unless plucked to the last
    Live fiber
    Will plunge up through dark again.

    The weed also has the desire
    To make clean,
    Make pure, there against the rock.

    Susan Porterfield, Lucien Stryk (1993). “Zen, poetry, the art of Lucien Stryk”, Swallow Pr