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A poem inspired by fantasy cartoons and old German folk tales.
Eyes burning with an ineffable presence,
There stand at watch, seen, yet unseen.
To look away is tomfoolery, be certain,
A sight too modest to be unkeen.
Look askance, watch thee burning eyes,
Ride on the glabrous breeze, as
The stormy petrels attack a pleonastic dove.
Can it not forfend the perilous closeness
Of their shrill cries on its own?
Cerebration indeed a mode most settled
For those in variegated malcontent.
However, the equable dove also holds other plans
For which thou time have lent.
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|The Staff and the Circlet Chapter 1|