Alchemisland

His eyes the sun’s second home

Grotto of purity

Dying then when they recline

Sighing at that surety

Describing vast diurnal landscapes to a child lifelong blind

Light climbing an ancestral idol’s ivory musculature

Abundance unto a supernature, nations of sycamores

Lakes of straightbacked evergreen, needy cedars

Like coddled toddlers leaving apples for teacher

Eager to reach light’s hearing ear

Branches splayed like fullmoon maidenlegs

Crisscrossing pinecones displayed, the forest’s eggs

Like a suicide bomber’s gelignite lingerie

All strap and clasp, the explosive was plastic.

The steerer of the good Ship Experience appears

Flaring like a new year between his ears

His tears golden as the holdfast of Croesus

It was the oldest gold he beheld in his alembic

Formed at the molten prologue of this inevitable ending

Rotten, trope-sodden plot, of sorrowful tendency

Usherer of endings and sender of messages

Suffers meagre abode, this host made seer

Hot spear of caress, delirious, melt-inducing

Metals battle-tested reduce to silver juices

Duress of appearance, dress of vehement beauty.