Sacred, ancient Albion lend your ears to me. Let whispers of the reed stems bleed into fields around me. For language, blood, and spirit draw a bow string and I feel the pull; there something shared. Possess me of your story’s wisdom, a wrestle with love and fleeting calculation. There’s a door somewhere in your grassy web and that’s why the heart and why the … Continue reading Our Britannic Majesty’s Request (Poem)