Dipping my quill into a rip
On Christ’s side before casting diamonds swillward. William
Tell me what I must do. Choose the yew that I must fell, my axe chews
Producing vermillion, which like candlewax to shaft resins the handle.
Puce lantern, I scan the cubes. Fume-ored my orbs, orpiment fused.
Soaring to warned-of heights. Bind refuser. Better views, better to scorn.
I thought I heard a turgid dirty bell
Pealing urgent dirges for a fell, keeling world.
Alchemisland 
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