I’ve got a muddy spirit
Death coming
Do not fear it
I’m exploring the floor devoted to cowards, linking arms with Dante
On the island of the day before, writing amorous passions for Ferrante
Animal magnetism en flagrante delicto
Ship of my cunning coming in
From the mid-Atlantic docks.
My hoarded thoughts things betwixt
Never talked, never coming to life
I will have on land no taut fortress
No wall to girdle ninemileround
A Nation in prime upon brine
Thalassocratic power
Socratic hours spent
Consulting poems for metrical and logical consistency.
In the bower of an old oak’s striated bark
Ireland’s shining centre of ancient power
Screaming stone like a vast graven phallus
In a hidden transept of the fields and park
Performing cunnilingus with diamond-drilling fingers.
Alchemisland 
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