Alchemisland

Messages pleading from dead relatives

Revealed in secret bleeding bone tongues

A lexicon of scorched undersides

Unguent for the pus swollen wounds of those left behind.

A fire language, puzzling to living minds

I strive for it, I will die for it.

With hundreds of words for screaming

But none for love or life or light.

Dancing upon the stake, whose waiting tip my anus will intake

The second my sashaying stymies for an eggtimer’s two grain duration;

Statement pieces

Taken recently

From my ancient teak closet

Are as cerecloths sealing the clotted air inside the windy gusset that is my unmanned, soulless cask

Drastic cerements my corpse shall be buried in, and buried with

Stones and long deer bones

Inscribed by seers with runes of terror

So terran me ends

I go to Earth’s ends a votive

A vessel, seed smuggling seed.