No corner where I am unhunted
Among fir and furze, among furred things
No coign of vantage
No coin supplants my honour
Adiaphane sky hides throbbing solar veins gold with sunpour
Vanes spin vainly in the gale
Procreant urges
Priapic verges
Virgin earths unspaded
Splayed trenches, seed spread throughout
Tanned the bronze arms of the King’s best man, the chief’s manful tanist
The bards in odes vanquish his cowardice
A screaming sword he holds in his fist.
Alchemisland 
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