This reading thirst, this needy curse, I have overworked
Until the burgeoning calendar’s golden bursts
Were dark as the undetermined, hearse hued, before my hooded eyes
Which light refuse.
The sound of static is the pleased cat hiss of life’s lighted fuse
As its chewing flame eats a tunnel through tallow unto charcoal.
A dimmed channel’s blue glow poses status quo proposals.
I would swim the channel like an Argo. My body damming it
Though the journey damages I send me where stars go;
Wreathe my mind in shards of gold,
Read my mind.
She breathed
My rind bumped like fleeing geese.
Alchemisland 
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