I once thought that life's what's left over after
I extricate myself from the mess.  I was writing a poem
about paying attention and microwaved a hot dog
so hot it burned a beet-red hole in the roof of my mouth.
Lucrezia Borgia got shit on her fingers by not paying
attention. Chanting a sutra, the monk stepped fatally
on the viper's tail.  Every gun is cocked and loaded.
	- Jim Harrison, *After Ikkyu*