by Terry Bowden
I trap myself within
the confines of one
of my own creation
I suffer my passion
for all who choose
staring into the space
between two thieves
a shepherd unflocked
I die for a cup of wine
forsake me not for
all the world I gather
I die for a time
like yeast to rise
for that I am bred
my mother my will
I pass through Hell
— Terry Bowden lives in New Zealand