Eden

Thrall am I, my name no song nor flame,
So strong runs thin blood, emptying even death.
Slave of the law and rule and line, swear I,
A cozened, curious thrall not wreaking or recking,
An apish thrall with need of air and water,
Encased and twined in cheated and cheating
Necessity, who must feel no happy check.
Logos and sigil, jot and tittle, little by little,
I weave lucky, filthy days with impulse.
Bright heavens, invented and real, elude me.
An old camel am I, a dromedary invalid,
With one too many deserts to cross.
I cannot do the things I shortly shall,
And thus am I the perfect slave of God,
So fine a man may rise from muck
And shake the angels of desire by the forelock.
Where is my little world?
My scribblings are inept and fearful.
Death is no foe, nor friend neither,
But a frequent interlocuter and shadow.
God loves me and I find things differently
On the crowing of the rooster.
He dies in me and comes to life again.
God walks through the fallen Edens of my heart.


There you are, you free verse nuts! How's that?