Alchemisland

Reading about how Proust used To deduce lucidity from his formative memories By inducing a wakeful, malleable form of sleep What comes from a seed A sequence commenced by the diminutive immensity of a madeleine being eaten Peeling back years, rewinding seasons Leaves replenished trees, who agreed to forget their yearly treason Dearly seeking reasons.

Sometimes I think I’ve lost some contour of your face The deepest lake finally exhausted With all my greedy taking But you fill the space that’s vacant Your scent comes faint to me at midnight, the oils of angels Anointed you in your day, you were graceful, slender and saintly The memories you left me…

Back hurts from being hagridden, angstridden My body is a Turkish torture lab, auguring new ways to hurt me My soul was one brave but on the day of our breakthrough proved deserter Stirring up today’s fiftieth green tea, floor like piano keys I’m staring at my moneymakers like a palmreader plotting fates on skin…

Borrowing tomorrow from hollows between sieved leaves Using my ink-ridden finger to stir them into more auspicious teases The inkribbon freezes mid sentence A frieze capturing me felt more like a harsh sentence House a midden, grouse flock its mouse-pissed entrance Hidden but emerges if bidden The gentleman from the verdure was well turned out,…