Alchemisland

My clean waste basket near collapse

Stapleless paper crumpled like granddad’s skin pre-ashes

Full of bad starts and hackneyed facets

Sections even darting eyes noticed were absolutely shite

I hadn’t the excuse of being out of practice nor past prime

I was simply ass slime

To be used as example of what not to write

At least that would mean eyes

Some notoriety, even if one’s derided by society,

Is better than publishing to eardrum pummelling silence

Gold in pots at the ends of smiles.