Alchemisland

As much as one wants to be two

Every subsequent number longs to be one again

We try a million ways to born again

We have done so since time’s dawn

Gilgamesh and Enkidu raged, pawns

We are not, they were drawn into 

Quarrels with which mortals have no truck

The second I get twenty seven I’m craning above the parapet for twenty eight

Too late to meet the fate of Jimi, Janis and Jim, sipped too much from the chalice

No grave like a palace in Père Lachaise, no bust of me Pallaslike above the door

When I go through the exit door, my name is spoken nevermore

Never quieter than when I’m gone

Never louder the halls I’ll haunt

I will go to them, as Yeats goes to Inisfree

Joining Night Gaunts, only by night can I walk free

No more the summer breeze

Or the golden mein, Apollo’s poured dreams, creeping up the domes of the old churches

Brightening by degrees, like a foundling to his creed

The sun sometimes is a candle when you need it

Sustenance at feed’s needing

I am the nightmares of Nostradamus, his direst predictions

I have distinctly Irish diction, aids me in dark seduction

My lips my teeth her eruption then sudden suction