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Sprog tally
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.
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Punching to final sleep the eel of opportunity
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,…
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Sinking lake isles
Far are we now from cowed and retiring Irishness Lapped up by the eyes of Yeats and his like, All worn Bible and sworn twice: Once to the IRA in the byre, in an Irish voice, and once to His Highness. Distant now from trumpet sounds and proud viceregalities Wooded estates with faun follies and…
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When the boat comes in
Wispy clouds Stetsoned and made alleged Sol’s weathermaking head. The Waker’s air raid alarm was slapped quiet like a mid-century stepson. Many hair-raising trials had he endured, emerging uncured of weakness But to strife inured, shorn of shyness and driven to speak up, to seek; Dad always said life’s bread’s one foot afore th’next, unto…
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Straightening out a couple of punks
She’s wanton, know she wants some Everything I want, and then some, comes To pass like I’m waving a wand at a henge, magecraft Clothes, their sway and motion like a stagecraft. My unwrapped johnson like a rafter Size reference for every cock after. No scope a block tough while laughing; Enjoy doing what you…
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Alchemisland 