The Well | a poem by Joel Schueler

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Head heavy yet clear.
In the cold air of the velar moon
At Autumn time while the virus does in solace breed
A seraph by the stream
In my heart’s transcendent dream
Lies woven on her side,
Cognate to my own.
Acned skin of horrors have I been
Exposed by night this worrisome plight
Does nought but snare my being


Joel is from London. He has a BA(Hons) in English Literature & Creative Writing from the University of Wales, Aberystwyth. His works have been accepted in over a dozen publications including Pennsylvania Literary Journal, The Dawntreader, Atlantean Publishing & The Bangalore Review. He is working on his first novel.


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