1
The hanging bell
a-swarm with bees
a bell inside a bell, a tongue
a pendulum.
To save the bell,
we smoke them out
with sage, remove the honeycomb
and cover the mouth
with an
old
green
bed cover
2
A torrent in the sky, a horde
pulling the earth upwards
and drawing up our eyes –
a cloud,
a messenger
an army,
a city, and a tomb.
The air is a voice, the sky is our window.
3
My grandmother said
you must always speak to them,
tell them
your secrets, let them
carry a message to your love,
Tell them your life
4
My mother asks the bees to
heal her cancer. It is winter.
For a week
they hang from the pomegranate tree
in her garden.
In summer we will
eat the fruit there
in the shade
and say,
“do you remember?
—the hollow tree beside the river,
the ring of mushrooms?
Do you remember so-and-so
who kept his bees in the green meadow?
Do you remember?
Do you remember
the smell of the wooden butter churn?
—and a dark cloud over a dark sea?
5
The bees say, “ We are Gabriel,
that stand in the presence of God.
Sin is when you speak of ‘Nature’
as something outside of yourself.”
The Apple was
a pomegranate,
picked from the tree in Paradise
beside the climbing wall.
. . . and I will make fesinjoon,
grinding the flesh and the seeds
in a large stone mortar, grinding by hand
with walnuts, and cinnamon
. . . with honey, with saffron
and paprika . . .
I will not hurry, and I will not stop
. . . like memories which go about their business
belonging to no one
visiting whom they please.
6 The Umbilical World
” I revolve around the center.
I come home to dance
at my door,
I will tell everything
in a song
I am the arrow. I always find my mark.”
7 The Song
“Each time you open your eyes
look at something you love.
A cobblestone weathered by time
the gray light of a rainy day
the bright light of early June
Even on the battlefield
even in darkness,
find the broken petals
and let them speak
Let your eyes
fall there, and rest.
One of the names for god is
The Veil
Do you know
how thin
how
thin it is?”
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