brooklyn bridge, 2 a.m:

There are no answers

where the eye dilated

catches the stars

in the numbness

of retrospection.

And death's hand

clutches the still heart

to its chest -

the spilled blood

like a million roses

cast adrift

on East River swell;

and in the long shadow

of Manhattan,

the coming sound

of the dead man's bell.

U.V.RAY

22nd June

2006.