Alchemisland

Pink fire behind the range, The slyness of rubber, the rage of paper. What from the vantage of my cave Appeared as some great range’s spine, On closer inspection proved a sky-high rubbish pile Which smelled of pus-tumescent infection, Sacred effluvia, and fool-taken turpentine.

Gulliver’s back hurts from exertion From bowing, from crownweight, and from worry  Checking it twice like Santa  Crossing Ts and dotting Is  Crossing seas robed in ice  Tossing turning seizing nighttime comes alive  My ship capsizes My broken head grows several cap sizes Occult books wind-cracked flip to the right page Tophets cooking kids at sulking age…

Here since the Fall, a sleeping evil! Snuck past an eaglewinged flaming sword wielder, scaled Eden’s walls. My daemon knows it all, tutored in the ways of war. Tortured and reborn alternately; in salt, flesh and water. Innate cruelties, The lake became the moon, taking its moonbeams; A latent energy inherent in the crudities.

Royal drudgery, old jizz like wax thrown pitcher style on the dead mummer’s clothes. A picture of what I want: Three blurry photographs of a blister pack, antacids, on a rifle. Dipping ants in acid, Double dropping the whole hive, lend the queen my eyes, wasp honey Trifle layered the flesh once flayed, Thanking the…