Linked Rings

Happiness kills no muse--
the bright speech-mead, for a lover's
soft hands,
flows ever as freely as that
sparked by battle's fury and darkest madness

My ragged hands know as ever they did
how to bleed my struggle
to the unforgiving, faceless page—

now I learn the lust for maid Life
that I may find my new words,
and yet confound not my sacred madness,
as the dark, copper tasting clamor,
the discord of the youth's disdain
finds Beauty's voice in

Erich Campbell

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