Tonight I will visit a tib
First, a tipple
Dripping amber drink, enfolding sap
Gold-fleeced sheep’s rippling hair
Flesh’s ink my digging nib sinks into
Go slowly with me, Monto’s most innocent soul
Epipsychidion, lost tribe Midian claiming descent from Abraham
Taking clam handfuls, dandy plootered on hop-sud dram, self balm
Bloom hand of hidden kindness, which is life’s wine
Vine recurrent thousandtimes, ignoring climates
Beanstalking ever higher, passing plane pilots.
Alchemisland 
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