I turned on the crock pot this morning and filled it with beans I soaked last night. As I heaped in the garlic and turned the crock on, Bukowski’s lines came singing back to me: “Ah, as many loves as beans/yes, count them now.” And that’s the gift of poems tucked into memory. They redeem the most prosaic moments with tenderness and beauty. This is important enough.
“Beans with Garlic” by Charles Bukowski
this is important enough:
to get your feelings down,
it is better than shaving
or cooking beans with garlic.
it is the little we can do
this small bravery of knowledge
and there is of course
madness and terror too
in knowing
that some part of you
wound up like a clock
can never be wound again
once it stops.
but now
there’s a ticking under your shirt
and you whirl the beans with a spoon,
one love dead, one love departed
another love…
ah! as many loves as beans
yes, count them now
sad, sad
your feelings boiling over flame,
get this down.
From the wonderful anthology collected by Steve Kowit called The Maverick Poets.
More poems at Tabitha’s place, The Opposite of Indifference.
