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/