at thirteen
bells
of partially informed
sarcasm
soon
to follow...
rang loud at eight,
having
found a discarded clarion earlier than six
bells
rang their way into words
sloughed from
dog-earred repositories
tickles eased the paean,
avoiding the trail of scrambled eggs
was a fait
less accomplished
coming full parabola
to rest
...assured
in
a conical
corner
breathing sifted
dust
mots
in
glandular disarray...
post-mortise revalations
weigh in...duly noted, if transposed...
is that lower moan the empathy builders, a crowd of swans, a prickly pair
slow-trekking to sanctified oblivion...or else?
delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/disillusionment-4/
