Alchemisland

Spitstuck skins

Potluck spins

Hot streak wins

Fleet applauses, lasting pauses

It’s that long angled, has me walking

Strange like my ankle twisted wrong

Handsome, mansome, is it wrong

That I’m demanding? She never once kissed it wrong

Manual handling. Past tense futures won’t be long

Coming around. Ask those sutures; ask these boots;

Ask the beleaguered ground why it eats soup when Abel’s bleeding?

Acid rounds, mink sable and fox this evening

Table set for our meeting with Set. Osiris’s wooden chest.

A mocker’s symbol jests. Flocking to threes; the knocker is Dionysus.

So slumped I’m knocking into what I’m trying to eat.

My rind half green, beleafed. Belief eases tomorrow’s friezes.