Alchemisland

Poets mothing to mossy tales regaled by now-coughing Homer To whom everything is owed Toward whom every cap doffs The occupation’s captain When man became his God And Greece his world capital.

Employ friends in the accomplishment of certain ends: Send as envoy one less beautiful and more dutiful To cross a disco floor and this boy you deem gorgeous implore sportingly “Profess that you adore us!” Right to point, would point “My friend over there.” His look would be quick knowing his luck big When a…

Hands bleeding From gloveless reefing Tugging old ivy from my garden’s buddleja, or orange eye Fur-loined tackle ‘Til we purloined apples Per ophidian advice.

Kings whose wives bear but one boy Will, despite rule’s harrying, have ardour in heretofore-hard hearts. Kings whose wives birth too many boys Must respite in armour and poise ‘gainst poison and homespun arms.

I try never to care and never to try, avoiding disappointment thereby. Though lately, since eating that secret cake, o’er-nothing dissatisfies. Fortune’s flies congregate blithely around the shit pile of my life. Suddenly, Choice fancies me like teen boys fancy sporty PE teachers. Handwaving portals to counterfactuals whose harshing contrasts deride What vines my barring,…