Alchemisland

He slumps like leaning in, some secret he’ll never tell

Shot between the eyes, with weight he fell, will he won’t he William Tell.

Caesar sees sounds, checking behind curtains believing Gauls will be found

Volarian arts and volar holes, Vangarian guards and potem toles, vision’s sound.

Box beneath my bed folded Babylonian garment

Through the covenanter’s camp unfolding alarment

Achan smuggled it from Jericho in the folds of his raiment

36 woes retributions with divining stones; the guilty stoned.