a mamaist story of U and

       
I loves U, U loves I. It's an old story. 
Long before I set eyes on U, I knew 
what U looked like, only I didn't know 
it would take a lifetime of stumbling 
through the dark to find U. Now that I
has, I won’t let U go. For I needs U; I
wants U; I lives by U. Because of U, I 
sees in the dark. Because of U, I feels 
the insides of things. Because of U, I 
is able to love everything I isn't so as 
to be what I is. Even if U doesn't  
understand what I is saying, it’s not
important. For the wonderful thing 
is, U always knows what I means—
I doesn't have to say one word.



Botsford, Alan. mamaist: learning a new language. Kamakura, Japan, Minato No Hito, 2002.

the poet after being called to his vocation

             i

I'm looking at you looking at me:
you're looking at me looking at you -- 
until now, Beloved, how could I have known
that we are always in both worlds at once?

             ii

After I said, "I do," Beloved, it wasn't    
a matter of the ring being placed
on my finger so much as me 
stepping into the Ring.

               iii

It's all so complicated, Beloved,
that I may forget...
Then again, it's so simple
that I may be afraid.

                iv

I can't contain myself! Quick!
Go fetch a cosmos!

     ... All right then, any threshold
will do, as long as through it --
forever without end, Beloved --
you come and go,
                  come and go.

                 v

Now only through your eyes, Beloved,
does my every expression have face value.
But had I not heard your voice saying,
"Mother and Father love you,
follow the Self-begotten Son,"
I would never have known that your
every train of thought was telepathic,
nor that I had arrived, finally, at my
            destin-y-ation.
           

Botsford, Alan. mamaist: learning a new language. Kamakura, Japan, Minato No Hito, 2002.

learning a new language

         

Goodbye, chair...       Hello, table...

      

Goodbye, table...       Hello, door... 

Goodbye, door...        Hello, path...

Goodbye, path...        Hello, field...

Goodbye, field...        Hello, sky...

Goodbye, sky...         Hello, earth...

Goodbye, earth...       Hello, galaxy...

Goodbye, galaxy...      Hello, universe...

Goodbye, universe...   Hello, there! 

Botsford, Alan. mamaist: learning a new language. Kamakura, Japan, Minato No Hito, 2002.

nothing

I have nothing to say for myself.

I believe in nothing.

That's why I always have nothing on my mind.

I just remembered something, however,

and if I may, here's something to show for it,

a little something from nothing.

Mind you, it's nothing to write home about.

And it's nothing to speak of, either.

It's really about nothing in particular.

For once you try everything from A to Z,

you find that nothing really works,

and that with nothing up your sleeve,

nothing is what it seems--

it leaves everything to your imagination

and nothing to be desired.

Now, if you think this has nothing to do with you,

or is much ado about nothing,

well, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

As any good-for-nothing can tell you,

I'd like nothing better than to offer you nothing.

But timing is everything.

Before you get all worked up over nothing,

you should know something first:

I used to have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to fear.

I mean, I used to think I was really something,

that I had everything going for me,

that anything was possible.

I used to believe that if one couldn't have everything,

at least something was better than nothing,

and that as long as there was something for everyone,

who could ask for anything more?

One day, however, I began hearing sweet nothings

whispering in my ear, to the tune of

"All or nothing? All or nothing? All or nothing?"

At first something in me said, "Oh, it's nothing,"

and I tried to act as if nothing had happened.

But day and night I kept hearing the sweet nothings

in my ear until I knew I had something to worry about,

since nothing was standing in my way

and I was already next-to-nothing.

Finally I decided it was all for nothing anyway,

that there was nothing left for me to do

except to take nothing personally.

So I slipped into something a bit more comfortable

and, after thinking of everything, 

I said to myself, "Here goes nothing..."

And suddenly, in a blinding flash, nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing!

And everything--in a word--changed!

I had nothing more to lose,

nothing more to hide--

for nothing was new under the sun,

 nothing more and nothing less.

And all I could say was, "Thanks. Thanks for nothing."

That's why, now, I can believe everything I hear,

for everything reminds me of something else.

And that's why I can take nothing for granted,

for I know that nothing really matters,

that nothing's perfect,

that nothing lasts forever.

After all, nothing is sacred.

Botsford, Alan. mamaist: learning a new language. Kamakura, Japan, Minato No Hito, 2002.