THE KENDRAGON CONTINGENT
Feeling free yet crippled still, mounting
library ladders with one eye closed, the
staple of morning feeding still remains
a man and his oats. Horse-like, these
farmers feed from bad bags of ideas.
-
It was two years ago when we first
lost our land? No, ten? No twenty-five?
Time is but a parable of ash and oases.
Now the sick upstarts are running again.
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Truly too, it is a period for proclamations:
One must now adhere. Another must remain
in his cell and pocket quotations from Emir,
a twisted bible, a banked fire for comfort
'midst a dwelling place of salt. I notice,
on the new radio-speakers everywhere,
the volume knobs, turned up, each
have been removed.
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