Thursday, April 15, 2010

Poem 14

To know the secret. To ring the bell.


Seek clay, words

To act as god


Unearth what they form

As discovery

As a root


The natural world is this bell

A path to god

Cast and pray


Sometimes we know things unknowing. By hand. Wet silt informing each line.  That we slip on. Slip into.

Then fire and ice burning in other's doubt. And if it doesn't ring. Sing out of the heavens.

A hole opens. How we've carved ourselves. We lie there. In the openings.

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