“Fundamentally the marksman aims at himself”
— Zen In The Art Of Archery
Home from the war
the only way to sleep was
to fire tracer rounds into
the figure of a faceless man
When I could no longer stomach
shattering the body of a faceless man,
the 60 caliber rounds became arrows
piercing his forehead
When I could no longer face an arrow
splitting the skull of a faceless man,
I startled an elk in night vision with a crossbow,
shook as it leapt and dropped
When I could no longer let go an airborne shaft
into the solid neck of an elegant elk,
I elevated my arrows into the limitless universe
and saw at last the face of the faceless man