Wan most at night
Veins with desire alive
Leaves skittering along treacherous muck-beaded cobbles
Hob knees nobbly having shoved hoofs into boots shelters in a shop front, even he shocked, who saw the Lord’s fist knock his host from holiness
Boreal sword cleaves
Battered windvains stirred midnight life
Watching through spitspattered windowpanes above a gaslit lane
Cage lamp mustard-haloed, xanthine aura surrounding
Tramps lay low in glow of false day
Gloameyed odalisques fishnetted tryst on fish nets, reaching fitful blisses
Coins fistfuls bedside lockers, or in hand, cast groundward if a dandy derisive and loathe an Irish
Kiss goodbye for a good ride.
Alchemisland 
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