In the country of the blind men, no one-eyed dogs are kings

except dogs that follow the men who are no longer blind

in the country where bled men wander among the mongrels

no longer in the land where the bland man controls the curs

dug into the lead of the men who handled the course where

the men-eyed dawns of the blonde man underlined the dark blur

of the kind man behind the floor where the grim hand curved or

a bold man kindled a flour time hoard with minstrel’s sore

and more staid men with no sense fell into the cold wet moor.

Advertisements