Alchemisland

Demons and upheavals, rushing up from a breach A jar of teeth buried on a Dorset beach A mummified cat dustily tugged from the snug Of some medieval trade hub Blood and pain exchanged for something like fame That’s the trade up you can make From the rusty trailer where I labour In lusty disgrace,…

An albin moon wave-causing Looming absorbing moonhowler calls Soul black as razed earth in the disgraced church Abandoned since the days of infamed hangman Thomas Galvin, this gaff Dressing like a mason, stressing intonations to turn the worm in my favour.

Funeral dirges sounding As our so-called leaders retreat to ground Redoubts drilled so far down the thin denizens who will henceforth Will eat from tins and subsist on medicines Hear nothing when the nuke show astounds No evidence whatsoever that anything went down Last hold outs Growing old young in steel cask holdfasts Urgent last…

Silent sermons, eyeless virgins Soul searching, stoking cold embers Visions of undying hope hued birdfeather Furtive things, loping and bowed, haunting aisles soundless Bodilessly shifting curtains Returning in earnest from the Boundless or the Furnace at odd hours.

The third three An ordained knifeblade gleams A tallow light reaches shadowed aisles through the western Window nearest the vestry where Once a well-dressed gentry Had seats assigned for vespers Now is it gone, like November to a June rememberer.