p r i s o n o f p r i n c e t o w n
"Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt also proposed that a prison be built on Dartmoor to house the thousands of captives of the Napoleonic Wars and the later War of 1812, who had become too numerous to lodge in the prisons and prison-ships at Plymouth. The site was given by the Prince of Wales, who held the lands of the Duchy of Cornwall to which the whole moor belonged. This is why the settlement is named Princetown."
o n e
the eastern bluffs of dartmoor,
the moor of the oaks,
amidst the rock tors.
the quiet bustle of
ashburton and south brent,
not seen but felt, reassures.
the channel glistens in the distance.
t w o
i turn, moving from the periphery
towards the center.
here, even sheep remember what it is to be wild.
as do the ponies,
like this one who, sensing
the wildness stirring in my soul,
permits me to mount.
he spirits me west.
t h r e e
we race towards the center,
we race towards
this prison of princetown,
this gift of the prince,
the prince of wales.
gray shades
pass back and forth in the yard,
automatons enclosed within razor wire.
f o u r
four corners,
four towers,
four guards,
four rifles
trained on me
as i trace the perimeter.
f i v e
how to get in
trumps the why.
above the prison
of princetown,
a cubical box spins
like a diamond.
from within the cube,
retrieved from the depths,
a mandorla shines,
above the well that
the ravished maiden still tends.
s i x
the fence yields,
the snipers do not fire.
the denizens' of the moat's
teeth penetrate
with affection rather
than menace.
s e v e n
i walk towards
the square edifice of the prison,
passing by the gray shades
one by one.
a gray man, worn, and with the
elegance of centuries past,
tips his hat...
e i g h t
as i approach,
a great tornado sweeps out from the prison
like the voice of god.
i clasp the earth,
feeling the tearing wind on my back.
i am overwhelmed,
and the vortex
hurls me into the sky.
n i n e
i transfrom.
a dove,
cucurrucucu paloma,
navigating the tempest,
staying within
the eye of the storm.
t e n
to transform,
yet again,
into a butterfly,
into a monarch,
("one who rules alone")
and alight upon the mandorla
contained within the squared square.
e l e v e n
i glance below,
the maiden stands beside her well.
another vortex
carries me skyward.
i fall to earth,
a sycamore pod,
spinning, spinning, spinning.