fear screeches fangs bare
then flees to let her echoes
like briar along a fence
bend their discontents
he stands amid barren fields
sword drawn like Occam’s razor
feeling foolish without reason
for an argument to make
outside his disquietude
with raging all alone
against the icy winds
howling in his heart
like hungry jackals
against the dark
(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Knightswords, January 30, 2014)
subtext 