Alchemisland

Nazarene distinct

Adhesive gazes slink to my rays and stick to my preying face

My father’s advice on my wedding day:

Only the winked at should know a wink has happened.

Took a Wing-Chun practicioner down, had him tapping

I’ve got lines, master of microdots and dashes

I did have weed but I breathed it to ashes.

Spiral friezes along her inked arms, like someone meant a squid harm,

We linked arms, our edict to sink jars,

With a cargo from old McDonald’s farm.

Fabric scraps and the portions of men which don’t matter

Scattered upon and below the barbed barbican of her heart.