Steven J Fowler - COB

what prison bars do not
is what a spider web does not
bars laid upon stones
on stones & stores
empty, elbow decoration, by bars.

climb a love below the granite line to lock with the
locking sound. The setting lock, the frozen sea of
granite. The smoke of prison bars shape trees

Each bar is a virgin. Each door a flock of
joists & atoms. I am the filament of granite. I
have become the child of filter & filigree. I am a
prisoner at the feet of the dark house. Its sons
are architects