Sunday, April 29, 2012

Have you been seeled?

Have you been seeled again with angel thread
closed against your dreaming brown feathers?

Pity, the needle must have hurt,
but at least your eyes are shut.

Now you have to sense the blue prey hunkered
in murky reeds whispered out of sightless mud.

Mud is cool sometimes, at times merely wet ground.

Out of the egg the azure climb and soar predicted
could never really or could have really happened
but the white dog is always walked in a beige coat
over high water teal pants flooded in black shoes.

It's all just the same and

it's only bad if your bells are bad or your fetters bad,
but if your bells aren't bad then fetters make you free.


  1. this poem soars, but the last line... that sings.

  2. @Harlequin: Thanks for continuing to read this nonense. I haven't commented back in a while because blogger was messed up. I do appreciate you though. Cheers,

  3. Jester, jesses: I like bells. Thanks for the poem, sir.