Snowden’s Lament





When the laptop sleeps,

deep as Loch Ness,

rainbows, truth and corruption

hum beneath the surface

like an ocean.  Does it grab

my meridians through

that cyclops eye?

Dilemma of being known, exposed

or hiding in a non-digital forest

speaking poetry to owls.

C.J. Prince



The Lord of Words



The Lord of Words

clattered to a halt

in his rickety wagon,

shelves askew, quills and ink,

old type settings, dictionaries

and thesaurus.  Just as I

reached for an ancient

tattered  binding, he urged

his nag forward.

I have been following

his trail ever since.

C.J. Prince