Alchemisland

Silvan, watered well these riverdwellers

Riven dell delves to elfin places

Liminal hymns lift him, hint heaven, he is silverhead 

His chin whiskers suncoloured, his motley array clanking as his wideberthed bay makes her way

Hair to his shoulders shimmering wet, westsetting sun rising eastward yet

Stars like confetti strewn again the voidhewn hem of a funeral dress

Death obsessed moon wakens loons and lycanthropes

Led by psychopomps, prompts by the hidden toward the forest omphalos

Not all who wander lost, he lusts for sounds of waterrush through brush

Hush of deep bush, pushes himself through to a clearing

Beneath a flimsy shelf shades the shell of himself, his intelligence is measured in ways trees do not recognize

Odious winding of their constricting boughs of varying wideness, the flashes of whiteness

Frightening owls taking flight from lumber libraries of wisdom, Athena’s favour their brightness

Alive, unseen life thriving at the bridling of night’s mare, sidling of mossclingers who guilefully mimic 

Laments short as Limericks from the lips of pinprick beaks, the poet speaks in iambic

Lambic in a victual bag fixed to hip sticks his hand in and drips it

Onto his tireddog tongue, energies climb the rungs of his spine, the flask is rehung

He still feels flaccid, tallow lambent light from his lit lantern white as lambwool bends in frightful shadows, he adds those

Things as make sprites speak to his tea and begins seizing freakily

The beaked eye him curiously, this curiosity on the forest floor

Corvids caw, ravens roar, as if the Thane of Cawdor saw a forest walk

Done with such inane chatter, he refocuses to what matters

The strange brew begins to work, shattering the veil of Maya

Land of dreams, Apollo’s golden mein, tea coloured rivers run over goldbelly silt

Lillies by the pond where blonde Goldberry sits

Birdlife, beautiful wifedrawing songs melodious cries full of strife and ire to fend off rivals

Their zircon eyed arrival like a tribal custom, arrayed in circles 

A peculiar musk wafts from rusthued flowers

Spiralling like descending hells bellthroated eagles, unequal god’s gifts

In strength and grace bite and flight force an angel’s sequel.