Bamboo
the ringing in
one’s ear is
not desire but
language the song
of another mouth
moving in a
different wind the
music is nothing
it is all
and has no
substance but that
shaped inside beyond
thought like growth
in a seed
there simply there
* * *
Something written in the 80s. My, how time has flown…
O at the Edges 
Terrific poem, thanks for sharing.
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Thanks very much! An oldie!
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I like how ringing becomes music becomes “beyond thought” … all stemming from bamboo (perhaps, as in breath blowing through flute made from bamboo … )
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At the time I was probably thinking of wind rattling and rustling. But it seems to fit today’s scene as well.
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Coincidence? No, my ears are always ringing. But, I’m listening to The Claypool Lennon Delirium as I read this, creating a three-way intersection (or, technically, six-way — before and after this intersection — but I digress) of ringing, song, and the seed planted by your words.
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Sometimes the ringing is intentional. Sometimes it isn’t. 🙂
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I like your eighties poems, Bob!
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I share a lot of the same concerns with that young guy, although his poetry was a lot less consistent back then. Ha.
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Love it!
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Thanks, Laura.
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but the music will always be there (even somehow after it is gone) (K)
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It has that quality, Kerfe!
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music…like growth in a seed. This took me back to the 80’s, but also kept me here. The power that a few words can evoke! Thank you for liking my poem. It too has been sitting on a shelf.
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I don’t mind visiting the 80s, but I generally try to stay in the moment. 🙂 It’s good to dust off these oldies sometimes, isn’t it?
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yes sir, I too want to stay in the moment, take in all I can and breath something back out on the page.
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It is a fine goal, but one I fail at all too often.
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What a lovely poem to read. The place I come from bamboo was ubiquitously available. And I can feel the music
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Thank you, Shantanu.
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Love this 👌
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Thank you!
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I wonder whether
1) time stands still, and
2) we flow, and
3) if it matters.
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I lean towards number 3.
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