No hatchlings No champions Fenceless. Senseless following of fashion Closely tailgating evilly-promulgated passions. Hailing as great one’s own dispatches As creations, nay, manifestations Of an able creator! These unample, puny scratchings Less than a handful Hardly scratch the surface Of the vast surplus I wouldst but durst not commune.
Voidlamp in hand, asp in lap The lucent crab’s jewelled clasps fasten To the battle cloak running down his master’s back. My avoidant candle yet withstands. A capful of borrowed coins, and the poise of a cat On cloud-cottoned towertops, the clogged corridors The clotted, the discerner watched me As Turner might have watched a… Read more: Watched assassination
Glass beakers pregnant With a recurrent leg-stealing mist sequence My see-ers. My sealed fear. No, my dear These days we don’t feed blazing grates paper. It’s not cutwood’s heat but pressed delete keys Which erase our shameful capers these days.
In my haunted garden artery hardening plants Barb and spar sporting spar for sparse light in slight expanse. Preaching age’s lessons with speechless, effortless change A rose which glowed mauve this molten morning’s eke Roves at dark-courting, gauzing dusk to a bleeding shade Rust ruffed. Upon touch, reducts to dust. The cup of the lustral,… Read more: My first rose
Alchemisland 
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