Sunday, April 8, 2012


Days evaporate like rain water-
most sink, some rise up into the aether.  Clouds drifting,
changing shape with each chance wind,
the ground you tread upon from here to there-
tangible and material today,
random pulsing through your brain tomorrow.
Every thing that ever was, still is. 
Nothing that ever existed has been lost.
-Incarnation by Ms.-

".....In the boom of the big bell there is a quaintness of tone
which wakens feelings, so strangely far-away
from all the nineteenth-century part of me,
that the faint blind stirrings of them make me afraid,
- deliciously afraid.
Never do I hear that billowing peal but I become aware
of a striving and a fluttering in the abyssal part of my ghost,
- a sensation as of memories
struggling to reach the light beyond the obscurations
of a million million deaths and births.
I hope to remain within hearing of that bell...
and, considering the possibility of being doomed
to the state of a jiki-ketsu-geki,
I want to have my chance of being reborn
in some bamboo flower-cup, or mizutame,
whence I might issue softly,
singing my thin and pungent song,
to bite some people that I know.”

Ring Them Bells


deanna7trees said...

only 'we' are sometimes lost in the overwhelmingness of it all.

jude said...

the days evaporate indeed.