Alchemisland

Couple of drags. Us hacking up ganj gunk like a couple of hags

Couple of drags. Only rustle dust crumbs left in bags, banging slump worms and hash lumps

Coming to terms with occasional swerves and slumps. Bear bones, their mould. Bare bone

Brass tacks. Bra straps. Bumps in roads. Bear burdens pridely, bright eyes.

Thirty four to five. Lodge-taken oaths. Mark purple right eyes.

I don’t cry all the time but don’t shy from a lump in my throat

Anymore. Cannot jump the moat but still promote the motion.

Cruciate the logo. Crucial the emotion. An unspoken name graven on a wall

Like a nouveau riche scrawl upon the side of a sidewinder’s dream, cruise ship.

Red beams, red mist I see, I cannot miss; I seize then I apologize. Cruel shit.

Tools with menacing names. Poems with Tennyson shapes. Denizens flame

My tendons and veins tending toward the vain. Wards I wore

Cockrow the galespun weathervane turns like a hungry cloak though sworn

So hungry and worn from war, I stoop to eat bile-producing dust

Leaves, piles of crocuses, mosses and mushrooms, repositories of focus.

Suppository apostles, the names of God which effacing time and robbing fire lost

Found entirely intact on slabs of resin wax.