Sat
Aug
6
“ the bell ringer
my friend joey cannot speak. but he can ring a bell, over and over, changing the tempo and creating patterns of sound that fabricate a dimensional space. lounging on the living room carpet, running his fingers through the threads, he is content. joey cannot speak, but his laugh is an arrow, and with his bell, he sits like a buddha in the hollow of a tree root, ankle deep in the ashes of what others think. give him a ruby, and he puts it back into your palm. he knows he has been cut by the blade of life, but still he sits, without an angry stripe, playing his music to all ears willing to hear, to a world where once long ago he would have been brought offerings, sweet treats on leaves left by long lines of pilgrims. *** esalen, ca 7/11
