I have rationed out the last of my worthwhile orations Orisons to that creating latent which nameless remains Man and ivy alike That specimen which insists on crawling remains juvenile.
Though her faith was plainly inert The shape of her, her manner, all madame and sir Suggested she was culturally church Kind and demure, worthy church-versed virtues But she had too some smuggled wildness I spied a caking of mud on her good shoes Often found myself doing what she told me to do She… Read more: Baptismiling
You are the blaze which entices my rag-wrapped stick Dipped to dick depth in a puddle of obsidian dinosaur gloop For whom nobody wept I took two of the tablets and slept like Rupert Brooke I took fragments of the broken tablets to her labyrinth To many, to most, she proved pole cold, o’er elaborate… Read more: Firesource, She
Plans for the destruction of planets If “they” fail to meet our demands. A manse for the construction of that Which damages thatches, snatches hats. I cannot believe that I would sanction that Rereading texts with head in hands. A white rainbow. The table’s dance A dictator’s childhood, Abel Gance Tar pupilled her sable glance… Read more: Architecture
I refuse to say what Orwell would, and advises we should, convey in one sentence I am a Tennyson and length is my way However penniless are left those who this path take Rapidly dispatched are the savaging papers The niblike point of a me-trained rapier They read my work with a would-be rapist’s sharkish… Read more: Broken lift
Alchemisland 
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