Homeless Ovid
Abutting road
Not leading to Rome
Blameless of Homer
Torpid storm, turgid night
Serpentine tide’s undulate tattoo
An exciseman in surplus resounding
Pass’d without glance-casting our poet.
Cursed to roam without the Garden
By the sawfire sword angel-guarded
Like a burdened beast ere upon its toes
An azure-triskelled woad naked in a cleaving wind
Descending the fold like a wolf hunting.
Alchemisland 
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