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Bicker
Splintering a hidden crypt’s driftwood door, ripping out hidden histories Indeed, it is a history shared which provokes bitterness A known joke taken as witness testimony It’s the history that stops you quitting in the middle Acquitting oneself, suddenly, of the need to bicker A shitslinging contest, cruelty besting honesty, going far beyond the line…
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Flow
Wet yet spring in step, hopeful yet of late Spring A lapping spring thought imaginary, hidden since history No mad king’s lap-spread map could bring you to its brink Only chance, happenstance, incidence or accidents provide access to the relaxing idyll where they stoop to drink and linger a little, a little thing The ring…
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Another Duchess
Above others, one painting I am often invited to display and explain He points, revealing creaseless priestlike cuffs “What about that one there?” Descending the staircase, a sense that every step displaces Some antient air, the valiance and vanity of this hallowed bastion The host, longing always being most, in the latest fashions and sashes,…
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Brumal Hymns
We left a fire reduced to ashes Clumps of crumpled gift wrapping, snapped crackers Half-finished wine glasses, Santa’s gifts of biscuits and Guinness on the windowsill The good silver, the fine china, the piano’s white keys shining with recent touch The musk of gaiety, the carols seeming to linger beyond the singer Ah, the fates…
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Walkies?
Knees Fixes to collar the clip of the lead Master craning Freeing from a ring where wax macks hang the reigns Rain detouring the casement little deterrent Defiant little terrier knows what happens come half past five When arriving master fits bridle.
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Alchemisland 