Nothing moves me This irremovable mood which occludes, Like a bright moon does the owl’s beloved gloom, All the world’s joy. The noise of guards rifling through Rooms made of tinfoil and dead leaves Loud as toasterpops seem In a house full of people sleeping dreamily.
Lifelike shapes rose on mauve tails Light and freightless as a barren babyless Or a carriage to which Dick Turpin offered bag emptying terms Smooth surfaces, no nails Without rivet, marks of making, maker’s marks These arks, with ne’ry a buffering moment Start out across promiscuous stars Through mysterious bores open like a starving’s mouth… Read more: Encountering another place
Lottos a lot like duels According to my useless jotter’s blot-polluted musings I hate having recorded these discordant delusions But the allusion no water throughs; Me against you. One from two, for all the jewels. Rules, few as you would consent to The people one runs into, in such places one would never expect We… Read more: With the plus
Talk about planned obsolescence Mad all, road-pulled by pheasant instincts. A clan of manful men hide-clad: me, my brother, and dad Whose breezy freeness easies people, even the creed-y; Strove the greedy to inhabit those golder frames made By his gilding assess; or gelding; or dismaying alternately. Bladelike wielded phrase What he proclaimed became best.… Read more: Applefar
Six figure sheep count at pealess duckdown bedtime Fewer Zs than the Bible translated into Irish Passion-occupied Byron sister admiring My silver-stealing magpie woes This stilting evening grow Cathedral sized Toothed finely, on stilts. My nine size G.P. Martens fused new carpet With her love’s black widow spider.
Alchemisland 
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