Leaning my paper horn into wheel-roused light
Night-dispelling Djeep lighter
Like a rhino moth self-immolating, singeing sins I creep higher
How many recessions I sessioned through
Sticking skins throughout the pandemic, trying to give lungs helmet
The words surprise my vision but a fissure betwixt, thick vincula
My pungent stick like Stephen’s Mullingar ashplant ferries me quick
To the moving quill, fidgeting like deficient attention at my desk
Waiting for my muse to enter.
Alchemisland 
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