P.R. PINSON teaches in Tbilisi, Georgia

Lion Dormant

This land is a lion’s decree:

when he is still, all is still.

---

And now, tired of feasting on flowered oxen,

tired of dying words,

the one you call tyrant is wasting here.

---

See the frail hair still waving in the breeze,

golden. His hunger was the sky’s

Contra Magus

(for Yvor Winters)

Damn the fine orator

Who’d bless and be blessed

By mere right of music:

As though a jeweller

Should don his crown.