The Wild Quietist in his Den

Not meaning to be pushy but

Our movement calls out jerks:

All those who praise the outdoors

All those who finger loose change

All those who love their country;

We would send them off immediately

In a large boat, to an island

Full of snakes and inedible fruits

And poisonous fish, and lice, and ship rats

If we could.

Our movement likes to heap on the metaphors,

For punishment, loves to lay thick with

The exaggerations, the analogies, the terrors,

And to pick fights to see who'll push back.

Our movement is a quietist movement,

We do not disturb the grass or the streams,

Our movement sacrifices to the sun,

We kill innumerable beings with the Buddha nature

Daily, nighthtly, weekly, a slaughterfest!

Cowards have no word for our movement;

Brave men are too arrogant to be ruthless.