Ringless Bell

On a hill, pagoda,
massive iron ringless bell
maybe a giant could toll –
down below where golden fish pick
water skimmers from placid surfaces;
somewhere near, the foreign stores,
exchange letters on par avion,
money in strange denominations
some multiples of native paper,
plastic slapping flip flops on roads
tumbling over drowned rice paddies
with banana trees some green distance
and a straw hatted family
castled by on a tiny motorbike.


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