To quilt mourning feelings he drinks all morning and day, to scant reprieve. Until, ‘twixt lycan and labrador, dusk of day, he ill became. Old sick stains on his wipe away sleeve top Fret not, it’s invisible beneath his polkadot livery Feeling liver-y Greening pallor, sweat gleaming Swaying though still Steaming from the swill, believing… Read more: The worst clown
Harsh, sermon-shushing winds blew baleful regattas on His funeral day. With winsome Sherman demonspeed winnowed in off the coast, Like an invading host, to harry us and hoar his untarrying ghost, Before his in-chariot carrion could be carried to the flensing garret; That wind hit harder than a chartered stepdad after a few jars. Marshy… Read more: Funeral winds
Before cackling dukes fancy in gaudy nouveau-riche fashions None of the aesthetic appreciation we might presume of lofty station Sneerers new to the peerage Whose recently banded fingers stink still of bandit hill and poteen still.
Jealous grass hates the glass hearted rose My ever-swaying gates froze halfway When the glade-dark of her blade-sharp shadow Blazed like the craven kin of matter along that lane Where in the year’s lateing frail leaves natter and scrape Like castaway playthings in a dollhouse hurricane.
Both sets of genitals sprouting from the face Like the hideous orgiastic plants of a miniature world Contained entirely within one bead of brown-tinged sweat Inside the enormously capacious asscrack of a Bosnian joiner Bent over a set of chairs A famously wealthy baron commissioned as a wedding gift For his indigent one-eyed son Wotanicalifornia… Read more: Banned Gods
Alchemisland 
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