The sound of morningbirds, larks astir, striated barks on stern oaks
Druidical drooping weeping willows stooping as if to hear more closely
The streams choking from the narrow throat of the thirsty earth
Thirty learned owls in parliament and none knows anothers’ name
Their gaze a panopticon, the space of an octagon a hawk circuits
A brown river like ciderspill from an overturned flagon
A typhon pool close to the shallows, spins like a wagon wheel turning
Long after the machine has turned over, its whizzing spokes leaf-choked like a hissing cobra
Above douglas firs, the high steeple of first pentecostal church
Lurching through kudzu and ferns, holding his innards
His gizzard bubbling like a wizard’s cauldron
He takes a deep breath, redoubling his efforts to keep in his effluent
Then, he could take no more and fell to leafstrewn floor
In all his glory he let go with force, like a jolted horse
He ejected molten manure across the concourse
He endorsed a tree’s aid to stay him, swaying as he sprayed
He knelt like a penitent among the furze
And watched his yesterdays recur
Tea returning in the form of beetle-turned turds
Like the sun held over the earth by fire-cursed Ra
He closes his spread curtains once the spurting stops
His hole hurts, painted with his slops
He strops around, fists bailed like a simian chagrinned
At another alpha’s insistence on the fringes of its grounds
Ring stinging like he’d heard happened often to Indians
Route home always busy with incidents
When you gotta go you go that instant
Translating meals into fulvous spheres
Leeslope, therenear, soiling as a deer does doe a female deer.
A massive tree like a tentacled thing risen from the sea
In a ditch by the roadside with my ankle-courting strides
Leaving a steaming pile you could count old corn in, yellow as tin fresh
Having intaken fresh thresh, I excret chaff as shet
Bodily functions Ulysses’ early readers despised.
Alchemisland 
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