Moonbound loon, printing runes in my master’s annals
Tomb of old titans, striations and rilles once thought canals
Ocean’s master of motion, commotion among the low nations
Atlantean eraser, brine bracing braziersmothering
Carving handshort devotions with Occam’s razor
Lurid, luring fascinator, who turneth me
Toward which ravenous lupines croon tunelessly in cold eternity
Many degrees higher than forecast, a furnace heat turns my chalice
To gold jelly, I flip an old penny ten times heads to spite chance
None immune avast yon vast alabaster, church-blasted bastard
Sages ancient suspected one day drake babes would break out
Flamebathing the world naked, hayless as the first day
A heinous way to hit the reset button, vengeance glutton
Family madness waiting in the braincase like bats in the attic
Selene’s best celebrant
She, day’s opposite, plays with me games
I know not the rules yet I play, engaging
A swollen greengage bidding me enpage my pain
Symbolically the doctor of the creation
The greengage is imagination purged of its banes, cured once lame.
Alchemisland 
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