The Death Of Jackson Plude

In the town of Kleek,
from the county of Blaise.
The kiss of the only girl,
whistling him gone.

The splutter,
then rattle.
The dying minstrel,
born Jackson Plude.

His silver eyes set,
on a slipping moon.
Blacking this land,
howling the coyote.

The rust of the bells,
chink as he slides.
Southward and true.
Aqua for the marine.

Through Migsweed River.
Under Ladylog wood.
On to deliverance,
and the windless air.