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.
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