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On the fringe
Of what can I boast? Health to whom none will toast A worthless person, worse by the toke My dispersing purse and erstwhile hope. I am nursed by the castaways of merchants My emergence makes them nervous My clothes are mouldy and need detergent Living the life of an urchin Or an army deserter, only…
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Holding court
Deep, gravitous speech like a priest He the husbandman who checks the cheek-hue of east each evening We his sheep girdled fan-fashion about his fashionably unfashionable feet Like children seated upon the cerise knee’d lap of a gift-giving beard laughterful Yet feared, his list updated yearly like a menacing tax-tyrant’s bible of tithable denizens.
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Our lady of the cinders
She’s the only one for me Her singular soul a source Left one rose Blood dripped from her nose This one’s a sniffer, spends all her dole On single glass slippers Hoping the Prince won’t notice, witness How she kneels as if asking forgiveness in the shop of a priest, sinless. Got the bends in…
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Kingdominance
Heaven torn asunder Kevin born under thunder’s horn Heard were the herding hoofs of lore The Gods of yore shorn of name and reputation Must be reamazed by a votive blood allocation.
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Old ceremony
Heightened occasions require ceremony and lightning, firelighting In ‘pard flannel and lucre gathered from beaches along the channel The King happy-dull jumps the belled bulls Action expels the tug of his charismatic woes Bare-breasted, void-nested, her parlour a nest of poisons and shells Little yet of self Her trestle table carved with Nestor’s face, instruments…
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Alchemisland 