Haven/Prison

Chained am I to this prison of wood; the Chains entangle my limbs, my soul, and I Cannot escape. The resin only I breathe. This atmosphere only do I know: the Sheet is the tree, the ink the blue sea, the White plaster that solitary cloud Overhead. As a knight into battle I bear the pen as my sword, the volume My shield. Prison though it may be, it can Transport me to Narnia, Middle-Earth And the like; travel with Christian, Thoreau And the rest; fight with Arthur, Bumppo And others. The sun does not melt the wax That holds my wings together; the ice cannot Touch them, here in my prison of wood. Chained am I to this prison of wood, this Cube of dripping resin, of rotting wood.