Alchemisland

Fog settling on barrow downs, holes for old kings

I am an old ship’s remnant hull, full of old things

High and grounded, looking down wingless angel

The world below me raging like an ape volatilated

By a net’s embrace, my finger along gilded cage’s bars

Something to mark that Midas was here

Through grilled casement espy Mars furious, throbbing.