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.
Enjoyed reading this?
READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY
SUBSCRIBEYou May Also Enjoy
Envy of the Empty Air
Of what do they dream
— the white-robed monks?
while we
with half-shaped forms
from…
The Night the Sauerkraut Exploded
The night the sauerkraut
Exploded we were all
Asleep. In dreams we heard
The awful…