Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Poem: A Lover's Recourse (fault)

fautes / fault

You smell your fault as readily as you hear a bell.
Ignorance rings a school bell, ego a church bell.

The loop of wire moves along the twist of wire.
Steady your hand or desire will sound the bell.

I ache for the beautiful young men I pass on streets.
They do not know they are beautiful bronze bells.

Out of the party chatter rises a cathedral.
My tongue keeps ringing my head that is the bell.

Jee has heard of, but has not heard, the one-hand clap.
He has tapped many bodies but has not heard the bell.

I hope perfection does not lie in quietness.
A poet builds his house in the fading of a bell.

The fading is a fault but silence is an itch.
More unendurable is the unrelenting bell.

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