My quill’s wetted tip fritters outlandishly
Colouring the undipped panda;
The vanity of making that span’s holy blankness vanish.
Through my wreck’s rent side
A lunatic tide pours effortlessly.
She is an outsider, an fortless lier beneath skies
Her dyeing eyes’ generous donations reframe the observed
The plainest bird made worthy with burstberry fervency:
Know-you-wept reds, of especial intensity; hinting immensity
Subterrene-screaming blacks, which with a screen’s false depth
Seemed curved, and disturbed the misled.
Her difficult to surprise eyes, owl sly and red-sided
Watched my couching hand fall drowsily
Least leaf shaped, downwarded
Increased in size as it couched the sigher.
Alchemisland 
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