A Strangely Shaped Medieval Codex
His mind is like a sky-shaped border on
The upper arc inside a vellum book,
A circle-shaped one with a scene of dawn
Enclosed within it like a sidereal hook,
A scene aurora-like but from a monkish mind
Producing manuscripts with hues of gold
And God, illuminated words assigned
By higher powers. Above a text to scold
The reader colors are too vivid like
The pain Jehovah feels when he looks down
And sees three crosses and a screaming spike,
And one round set of thorns, a hex bent crown
That brings stink’s blood. Calligraphy pretends
That syllables have holy, higher ends.