Alchemisland

Explorer seeking Nile’s source, Henry Morton Stanley sort Standing when bullets soar, when smoke clears standing tall Standing pat with bad hands Glad handing, glad rag grandstanding on the bandstand Gangplanks gangly lad from Glasgow Looks like a spanking fetishist, name of Laszlo.

Unwanted dreams of tragedies, screaming widows Men hanged from pepper trees, minnows teasing Flesh from shamed maidens drowned, stoneladen A memorial, a memento mori for a senior stonemason to pave A stone that will stay, for another day to read my name All of life was more than a game I came to know that…

Sights reminders of acid rides, the spine confines Vials of fine wine which indulged provoke elevated frenzy A grave barely able to contend with its meal, my spell lends Strength to the dead sufficient to bend bars, coffinlid scarred With nail marks, an iron bar, a concubine in a lion mask dying Bleeding out upon…

Rapping tapping on window panes hard enough to break Shout out into howling rain, naked night Cease this play such that pains me, such ungainly displays which awaken Hours before the crown of haymaking day upbraids Midnight’s fickle dominion, I see an array of shapes Moving daintily through hazy rain by the maze Constraining fear…

Form a queue, I’m looming Many irons, gardens blooming I’m Jeremy Irons in irons Confined to a crooked tower around which ill-natured storms gyre Ate brains and got prions, my little eye will spy on Show weakness then pile on My soul flies like a pilum upon my getting high; numb Higher numbers, still feel…