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Witch faith
E’en shaved close the once-clothed foliate face of the woodsman’s place Bore the taint of embrace Pockmarked, far-reaching tattoos old ivy produced Shades of was-bark. Of that place’s wick-ignorant, witch-busy nights Many passers by, if they slowed to admire the sky Reported having felt some dispelling or disarming starkness. Oft moons harkened until sparks abused…
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Let the best suit person attend the task
My way of surviving Clinging to the side Of the first person who walks by With some life behind the eyes. Giving to be wise; That one-eyed Viking primate has seen tithe’s zenith, His sky-climbing wild wives were fighting seeresses, brides divine. Who can prise it free is not necessarily who best plies a thing.…
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Clockbody
Skin pounding blast beats like beast-bleating The millionth time I’ve seen this band. Eves repeating Like defeated minds beating-eaten. Skin sounded a primitive tip off, clear as any beacon burning could signal: Worms turning so be off. A tingle to signal tonight’s not the be all end all, Count your singles, end the mingle then…
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Small victual
Nailed down then speared! The embattled spirit chances upon the wyrd Bronzely retired the honest tyrant The handsome weir is never tired; Lion never tire their diet; tyres long for grit; Bonnets dream of clean, cleaving hits Spray, hiss and cold hit of victim’s pips and leavings. It is these things that sleeping cars are…
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Untraceable someone
The unwelcome hotbloodedness summoner Strolled up to my low garden wall and droned drolly I alone prove how nothing changes My aching bones and wet cake face My noisome knees and bundy roll fingers salient-caked Like the boot of Tommy who ate it Bought it, the bullet, or mortar in this case, on whose case…
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Alchemisland 