Ding

Could that bells taken apart

stretched mm angel barks

appreciated, adored,

drenched in golden golden-ness

drip dropped, dangled

as though bubbled

glide towards heaven

synchronized, split off

from blast & smelt & smoulder

quick flown and flashed

not drum, not singsong

just a pouring

 up like that

 shock ink mess

of sound, tender and lost.

but of course

the stars, the precious moon

a next stop.