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Washing of Hands
Death what but chance taken Priest barded charblack armour Gospel ardour, holds his arms Water pure cascading ewer Holy waste unfit a sewer Circles sacrarium’s grate.
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Bygones
What whilst walking to craw affixes is considered little at lapping Styx Skeleton fixtures, smoke and acrid admixtures furling from fissures You will not think about when, in third class, you were spurned by Richard Nor will you regret having left a house’s – now another’s – ailing fixtures unsutured You will not cry at…
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Horseman
Capped coachman holding court to a wall Fuck all happening this evening If Harold’s Cross I must be fuming Smack lacking few men I know And where are they now? Cowper Or Dundrum in fairy tale gaffs, eating escargot Quoting Descartes o’er cards, some ego I cogito. Today, in the rain, done three laps of…
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Standing Vigil
For a consumptive waif Babe still I volunteered to wait Morning ’til Upon sill alighting, ’til dawnlight In her society. All night I was to wait Stillstaying A priest to pay my wage Tuppence day For pay such men slay demons, eh? Nods me away. Figured muchly would enjoy it Humour’d mordant But when I…
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GRAN’S FELLA
Fridge opens, alighting flies parading Leaving donuts flyblown Hot day’s a dog’s one Make bog of hash driveway Even hideaways turn out today. He is seventy five, lives in sixty four Elderly neighbour Elmore leans, turning on the radio Confined to a chair since Rolfe had hair Fog Hat blaring Taliban? Fuck that written on…
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Alchemisland 