Alchemisland

We scrimped together

Enough for a scabby measure

A blunt’s makings if you never say never

Shaking out a scraped-vacant grinder’s faintest flakes

Anything to escape feeling constantly chased.

Constable haunted

Dreams of wall vaulting, clearing lanes

I adopt the Skating Minister’s posture

Whip a cost-ya eighth out the pocket

Have you plugged in, powerful socket

If that sounds good, empty your wallet

Bent over, hunched ogrely, like I’m painting miniature models

In close putting the last ink-exciting dose into my bong’s bowl

I could blow a cockroach, that close, microbially so.