Alchemisland

Hours and days

In arrested daze

Induced some hitherto-glueshut effusive

In shooting, rooting May’s replacement

A statue living on the fumes of stale praise

Long idle, at apathy’s sanction

Can find with time ample pride even in rust

I want us

To smash all the idols

That we might

Bridle the dust.

The tide can be willed fire, if we might.

Wise design’s finest scion, thee

Owl mind and angel scowling, heat

As felt near a foundry meets

Blurring boundaries between.

Lust as iron. Lustral lion

Dragging lopsided my oft-cited monolined sight. Boxed eyes.

Once the cave is exposed, its dimensions seem slight.

I wake to the best dream and so hasten the too-long night;

Petitioning war-missioned Mars for might enough to dare

To make perfect present from distant might’s painful maybe.

I thank the great god Plenty

I drank beyond sense;

Drunk on imagined scents

My goblet filled to crest

With dew her mane arrested.