Alchemisland

To a moth I’m like a lamp two million watt Luridly luring them to my lantern’s unearned purity. Smoke and flame Must be Durin’s bane. Picture this: In the park’s darkest parts Selling barbiturates and bark, in bits. Glamour glitz, blunt hits as verse gristle, Audemars wristed All the visiting outfizzling stars out and about,…

My sweat-beaded head like a drying flipper As a bends-bent diver is pronounced dead. Pleasant emptiness nesting in my head Like some rare bird gilt feathered, which bipolar climate sent instead Of the more familiar kind. Our borderstraddling birders bored us With pictures of strange murders against porous skies. Poorer service than ever I had…

Even the king of the Gods Old now, rotten log Wrath’s steering absconds Abandons like a dog unwanted Manless mountains and mounded bounty To stalk the lanes of strange, haunted counties, where walk countless The deranged. To walk among these queer creatures, his appearance he cauls But his cowing fearlessness, dowl-kin beard, communion with owls…

Lotus-bloated tiger dream jaded Tranqed circuited a circlet-grand cag, dragged chains Changeless until curtains conveyed like lover’s lips The butter-footed tongue’s final slip; I died a froth-stained disgrace before an audience of eight strangers.