Alchemisland

Missiled quill bent on destruction tonight

A sulky, unctuous messiah spending wastrelline his bulky ire.

I am Barry Lyndon, destined to shine before I, punctured, wilt

So I will it.

Blooming, at last

I will fast brown and deject like an afflicted at my flickering bask.

I swim toward that hungry basking shark darkness at Baskerville charge.

I have only a snipped bindweed’s strength, which ne’re resumes.

I am half paper, half plume.

All caper, with nothing to commune save

Lists of ways I’ve smoked jays. My increasing hands;

These empty reeds which fail to please what Lea they fan.

I empty me.

Exempt, released, waving, fanning, permission sheets

We wandered like dishonourable convicts daysplit streets

No one honest sees.