recto:

I send this from the little cell wherein
I dwell, a sealed room without a door,
no latch or bell or knocker waiting for
those whom some debt or doom or mortal sin

might draw towards this private tomb.But for
one single tiny window set up high
which holds a poor small square of greying sky
where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score

there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try
to find that secret power that lies within,
that quiet light that I am storing in
this  room in which I live until I die.

verso:

I send this from the little cell
wherein  dwell, a sealed room
without a door, no latch or bell

or knocker waiting for those whom
some doom or debt or mortal sin
might draw towards this private tomb.

But for one single tiny win-
dow set up high which holds a poor
small square of greying sky where thin

birds’ flightlines scratch the current score
there’s no way in or out. Yet I
shall try to find that secret power

that lies within, that quiet light
that I am storing in this room
in which I live until I die.

turbo:

I send this from the little cell wherein I dwell,
a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell
or knocker waiting for those whom some debt or doom
or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb.
But for one single tiny window set up high

which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin
birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in
or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power
that lies within,that quiet light that I am stor-
ing in this room in which I live until I die.