You! Mean Nervous Bell.

The day is almost raining,
words you spoke,
nudged and produced, as a bell
storing memories of melody
in its hull. Water spreads wet

speech as friends I hear at midnight
awaiting leaden and tremulous
to pronounce the eighth morning hour

struck by before love stopped.

Untold memories left unpolished in
the night our eye-gleamed sea houred
the morning beam to toll!

My heart, a clapper of stones dangling
to discover or devise supple alternative

guard your approach and give life's purpose
the risk to breath again the chime we learnt
not to heed.

Pay attention
use my legs to walk in reason which makes
silence tender in another room.

An authoritative antonym fills with invisible
weighted meaning and so much more legacy
he deforms the meaning-stone



Pardon his varnished memory
feathering each hour long
his offer to urge you consider
silence in sorrow
heartache on-page

sing his hour within
welcome the quiet belief

a potential heartache we once shared
the year a reel in my chest

Swear a need to iron the din of sadism
smooth and protect the ring of hearts
singing its hum for each
hour within beloved
knowing one.

Be in the darkness of belfry night my