Alchemisland

Hoodie says take half let an hour pass and see if I past muster

Fuck that bastard I gob a jar of mustard to invite circling buzzards, take 

Two the roof of my mouth felt like it grew to be the size of a high

Cathedral ceiling, tapered and gothic and capered with alchemical motif

Scenes from the life and passion of Jesus, flames teasing the hems

Of oil-heavy martyr robes, sure in their heavengoing, never abjuring

Never a hint of denying knowing, a soul free of owing

I go up toward the ozone, I’ve broken free of the ratrace

Outer space, jailbreak and I’m away, great escape

Down the escarpment, my sneaker base scraped, an Escalade awaits

Hooded man I paid doesn’t wait, away like a rapist at pepper spray

Sprained ankle, dragging manacles like Jacob Marlay, moving slow

It’s slowgoing, call me slow poke, I don’t play poker but similar bloke

I’ll throw in and keep throwing in, gambler’s instinct until I’m broke

Or until I croak, whichever the Norns hope for me with their invoking ropes.