I should have been a water diviner
Always find where it is hiding
Rods cross like rite-potent roads
Right potent if you know the right poem to recite
By the roadside in sight of His Odious Mightiness
Through ode’s dictation signal want of conference
In my mad want I became self centred
Went with my wand to the asking place
The grotto where He Who May Be Asked basks, his dank bastion
A stretched rock seemed posed, anguishing
Some earned strike’s arrival, sky rivalled a rose that night
Beyond language, road rose to meet my rover toes
Beyond the tribe’s understanding, beyond an overdose
I went there and there he was standing, doe skin book in hand
In dark robes with one eye only, Odin woodscented.
Alchemisland 
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