Alchemisland

Rood-shaped like a pugilist wingspan conveying

The shade of a sword handle; glaive planted like a plant of the grave.

The haziness of early day rapidly supplanted by grey, slapping rain

Which slantedly aimed seems pointedly animated.

Biting night gnaws animaline my unsightly binding chord,

Bores the jewel-floored chalice.

A queen by manner and habit, cards tomorrows purport to inhabit;

Am I that famous Alice or the mad hatter waylaid en route to the palace?

Anger hankers our alliance with slight, silence, defiance, and challenge.

I gather my Rabelaisian babble-greased sheafs

Wonder am I truly capable of further reaching;

This reedy over-booked nothing. Greed is fatal

And I will always have nothing because

I and I and I and I and I are at odds.

That time tested

That which abides impresses

Old gods from old dog Time’s other country, and what Gods.

By what odd spellcasting

The peltast’s pebble spells disaster

Stabbing the minotaur’s nothing if you fly a black flag after.