Quill in the ink-well
Set down by a now restless man
Entranced upon a bed draped of linen
In meditation
Drinking tea with Madonna and Azrael
While chatting with Buddha
Reading from the Dhammapada-

"As rust sprung from iron eats
Itself away when arisen,
Even so his own deads lead
The transgressor to states of woe."

So he speaks of his Malavagga - Impurity
And to him the impurity of choice,
The view brought up from across the room
Thor, and his Valhalla shame,
The descent of winged horses
Galloping on rays of glorious light?
Absurdity agreed-

The Father, Son, and Holy Banshie
Lets a shriek ring through the neighborhood
Locating childer to return home
Broken from meditation
No longer entranced upon a bed draped of linen
He grasps the quill in the ink-well
And begins to write again.

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