The Bell Ringer
A POEM
He disturbs
The sleeping bells, the stolid sounds
Locked in the iron tower
That hold indifferent resonance to
The germination of a seed,
The cutting of a flower.
He wraps the ropes like ivy In the groinings of his hand
And dances
Blending joy and sorrow
With the falling sand.
You May Also Enjoy
The Night the Sauerkraut Exploded
The night the sauerkraut
Exploded we were all
Asleep. In dreams we heard
The awful…
Thaws
Around our March balcony tonight
Fog closes its slight hand — illusive blue —