A Poem by Christopher Kenneth Hanson

A Lone Spirit Bell

par tempus espíritu chi allegre della notte

est la piacere della la gente completamente.

By dawn heed, rising

As still of heat
In decadent mourning
By grace of bays,
Found solace flummoxing
In net of truth,
Found umpteenth hangings
All over you

And if still, when risen-

come here, complete:
Though these tempests
ring still torpidly

Drawn by bells

circumnavigate all which heed
strewn over battle ground lights
fragrance in dawn-
And measure in the soot that falls
from the ringing ceilings below.







Christopher Kenneth Hanson (ckhanson81)

ckhanson81@gmail.com

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