It was a quick loud sound

The cabin over-heated

***** no longer thin

Elegant words will not do here

Long buildings hang outside

It is a Logging camp with

a prisoner poet

Pacing the creaking floor all night

I race to the back door

Fall into the thicket with one foot

caught in mud

Rain came with a rip and roar

My brown fingers freed myself

Absolute power is a vortex of insanity

Reason has lost its exaltation

The Masters of poetry are laughing

Presentiments long shadow was ignored

The sun will go down

My poet will be lost in the thicket

This, a vision of my world..