Alchemisland

Angels and angler fish light my way through the void rifts

My candle drips, its wick flits and flickers but ne’er dims

Whims have brought me beyond whimsy, through a window

Tipsy sights delights for deluded minds, mushrooms higher

Than ere before I spied, lyres played by lice, mice feeding pyres

With yellow wood

Yelling out, bellowing shout, mellowing sound 

Of dryad’s bounding after a skewered hog

Bog kings and dog signals

Whistles, thistles, hedgerows which listen

Attentively to your intentions, lend them ears

Features start to appear, creatures you have never seen before

Come near enough to touch, seemingly nonplussed

Banks of mustard yellow flowers like the nextlife wyrd of cowards

I’m drinking nettles to settle the metals in the blood

Plucked from the meadow, plucky in the mud

Puck is dancing in the wood, his bloody morning warns the shepherds

A leopard is coming and lunching on mutton, beyond fox cunning

His runtless litter a bitter school of biting sinners

I heard a rumour that the bitch was one of the Prince’s

We take the lich road past the potter’s field

Arriving to the lith, exactly as the pictures

And the passages described it, more alive

Still, thriving upon that hill which overlooks

Its royal yield, golden wheat is never stilled

Until the day the fields are tilled

The Barleycorn must have his fill

The village Robin is ritually killed

His grave dug on the day he was born

Is finally filled, the rite is fulfilled

Abundance, one cannot discern the hill

From the ground with the height of the stilts

Smoky stills acrid still where poteen is spilled

A drop for the people living under there still

The inspector comes collecting expecting tax payment

He is not an elected official, who is he out here hectoring

Us at our still, we give him a bottle for his fill but he takes the gesture ill