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Eight Hundred Give Or Take
The Irish man, he of the Glen We are bogmade not of Fen To us a tree is a crown, and a road sounds like a cow When you want it done shout anois, they’ll know you want it now Liza’s ladies and her quisling spymasters, lorecrackers and invisible inkers Crossed finger across table winkers…
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Hidden Ritual
In 1971 the Devil released a book and an album After a millennium in the pit he had a head full of tunes Every good guitarist owing and betrothed Every decent singer owes him their throat’s gold Arousal at fame’s suggestion, their souls by deed his at the moment of their disposal All the pills…
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Citrinitas
Yellow as a bellow’s charge Nothing mellow about it Aggressively bright, solar redolent Blindness conferrer and ultimate pedant It awaits reddening, his readied admixes remedies of maladies Along the axes of nameless stars plots quare voyages His applicants are highborn, autarchs of rare import, extinct vintage Light and not unlike a bowl of cocaine, strained…
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Alchemisland 