Alchemisland

Downward now to get amongst it, downward fast like bored balloon,

Choking dust and Polish names, rigged games in swinging saloons.

Now as if on arrowback a straight shot through the hills,

Clacking red railroad trucks like spy’s glasses spinning,

Ol’ black red-wheel belching excess, blazered leatherbills steam the whistle

Light thinning to less than eve, ages not amazements blurring,

Wish speed would slow, taking ease amongst; just be.

Lulled by fast-passing wide-eyedness, beholding quick-dissolving wonders that ghosts make with steam.

Just me in the quiet carriage, loud with ceaseless forward the backtracking train a nursery

I creep aisles climbing carts like wandering ivy, among the sleepers ivory of eye-whites invisible.

Two bauld Powers a pint of plain said quiet to the barkeep, who might be a ghost;

Whether holidaying in life, this dead, or deading through life was a fine host.

Two Powers I master milling into pint of plain song on tongue.