Cliff Poems
Teary Temple Eyes
Dancing through smoke
and chanting fire toward heaven,
I ask humbly the eternal rhythm
if it may spare a moment's worth of words
to carry home with me.
Listening intent,
it tells the story of seven elderly ladies
in red robes feeding ghosts
bowing together on the fours to a clanging bell and
of the discipline to be found in noise
among believers on a Sunday afternoon.
Just as soon as the end of a sentence,
the faithful have exited and I am left
with a future full of blankness.
Grateful then for the smells, statues, lights, animals, and colors
I follow, happy now not to be alone.
and chanting fire toward heaven,
I ask humbly the eternal rhythm
if it may spare a moment's worth of words
to carry home with me.
Listening intent,
it tells the story of seven elderly ladies
in red robes feeding ghosts
bowing together on the fours to a clanging bell and
of the discipline to be found in noise
among believers on a Sunday afternoon.
Just as soon as the end of a sentence,
the faithful have exited and I am left
with a future full of blankness.
Grateful then for the smells, statues, lights, animals, and colors
I follow, happy now not to be alone.
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Teary Temple Eyes
Teary Temple Eyes
