Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bells, meditation, poem, poetry on September 24, 2018| 2 Comments »
Suddenly everything is bell.
The bright clang of the spoon
stirring in the metal pot.
The scraping black note of crow.
Creak in the porch board
as I step into shadow.
Horn of a passing car.
What isn’t a call to attention?
Horse whinny. Airplane hum.
Dishwasher whirr. What
isn’t a bell to wake us up,
remind us to bring our attention
here. Whisper of leaves.
Squeak of the door hinge.
The small sigh escaping our lips.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bells, Buson, poem, poetry on April 7, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bells, poem, poetry, self delusion, waiting on October 3, 2016| 2 Comments »
All night I waited for the sound of bells to wake me.
I waited so long I wondered if they had been rung
but I had not heard. I wondered if I had forgotten
what bells sounded like. I wondered if the ringer of bells
had overslept and I should go wake her or rise
and ring the bells myself. And when at last the bells
were swung and charged the air of the halls
with their bright brass song, I laughed out loud in the dark,
amazed I could believe I’d forgotten the sound of bells.
What else do I think I’ve forgotten that is so wholly present here?
Some sense of purpose? Some sense of communion?
Some understanding of what it means to love?
What if these things are clear, clear as the sound
of bells? Oh fool who waits and waits for something
to appear. Is it possible whatever your waiting for is here?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bells, interdependence, poem, poetry on June 21, 2016| 3 Comments »
Here is the heart
asking the bells to be quiet
so that it might hear
its own beating.
Here is the blind man
who climbs the mountain
by listening to the song of bells
worn by the guide in front of him.
The path is getting steeper.
Oh heart, there’s no reason
to pretend you’re alone.
We’re all wearing bells
for each other. We all
need a song to follow.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bells, Lorca, love, poem, poetry, poets on March 30, 2014| 1 Comment »
The bells are lost, the bells
are lost, oh Lorca, the bells,
the bells are lost. Let us
make of our bodies, then, the bells
that chime of old green fruit
and cinder and the raven’s yellow
eye. Let us be the bells that clang
for the clouds that can
travel across any sky, let us
be the bells that ding love,
love, love, oh Lorca, here,
hear the bells? Spiraling
ding and listen, oh bing,
let us dance then, oh ohm
the poets are come, oh awe.
