Late night, Satan’s time
Larks latent, awaiting dawnsaying
Creatures cosy in lairs
Tossing turning, placeless noises weeping vixen
Faceless, hinted vision opened window
Chair scraping like chary stray kitten across kitchen floor when no one else is in, summoning nodules along my skin.
Settling down
Weeded of glamours, freed havocs
Hammers falling on sky as onto anvils
Night’s sable steed fleeing eastward
Paddock bolter
Jolting awake, volts of fear their veins host
Hagriddens bolt upright four-poster beds
Sensing someone else
Face’s faintest outline insisting from without bed’s confines
From subtle subterfuge soot hued shadow refugees taking refuge
I am master of this place, I refuse you entrance
The dismayed whisper into empty space
Frozen in place, respite’s prisoners
Rest’s embrace fearful made
No more dreams of Abyssinian maids dulcifying air at Mount Abora.
Shell-racked cataphract, marching back from the frontline through shattered countryside
Lines of staves as garden Wallachia’s warlord’s palatial estate
Ruined streets tyre streaked
Armoured vehicles bent on seizing Eden
Eventful hours, nobody speaks
Decreased by war
Creased drape scarlets in mortuary parlors, sending flyblown boys back to Ireland, Leinster
Ruined form
Once handsome, mansome, life of his house
Line’s last and little man of father’s eye
Sent out to die, bravely the letter specified
They failed to describe how he died
Drowning in himself, choked by reaping gas
He would have tasted apples, then felt acid tadpoles swimming up and down his windpipe
A thousand glass-topped lassos him consuming in a gloomy trench twenty miles northwest Bethune where last billeted per letter May eighth
Face like rent shell canister
Crotal-throated winds thrown out by bold child Horus lands harrying
Teetotal dry anemic spines where once yeargreen pines pulsed at pushing winds Boreas had expulsed
Entering an amphora dirt-packed like a sewer tunnel, crawling tight runnels stomach tight to ground.
Alchemisland 
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