The Alchemist

The Alchemist long poem

Photo by chawkfan91

hear my manifesto, dear heart
in meditation from late morning
bleeding larded beads of sweat
a recluse’s hideaway a mobile home
sealed against weather drum tight
baking in the Florida sun

cross legged on the cheap rag mat
so thoroughly infused with me
sweat and piss my fierce human stink
drifting to the tick of metal expanding
insects knocking against aluminum walls
branches tapping windows

knowing at a remove, feeling clouds
growing pregnant in the gulf
filling and spreading as day fails
dragging their skirts against the earth
pressure swelling for a storm matching
the pressure in my head

dusk is a lover, dear heart
inconsiderate and half-expressed.
stepping down from my home into steam,
rain vanishing as it touches the road
fecund and fertile the deep perfume
I bask in primal inspiration

kicking the scooter into life
gasoline and spark, explosion of transformation
violence contained and turned into motion
burning oil right from the start
smoke joins mist in the gathering dark
I ride a dark brown smog

you can have the sorcery of teacups
and soup kettle spells dictating the demise
of individuals, dear heart, love philters and curses
hatched by half-mad bedlamites
disappointed they never fit into
culture’s unkempt tapestry

here in the land of swamp-bred lakes
casual sumps and stormy potholes
there are cauldrons past the dreaming
of the race of weird sisters, fenced and gated
from gators, dear heart but no deterrent to me
a fiend with bolt cutters

shed off clothes then coated in anoles
tiny, brown and green lizards licking my sweat
massaging me with flickering tongues
speaking sweet friction dear heart, primal
we skitter a multi-eyed beast to the lagoon
wherein we will create a spell

you may think that industrial waste and fertilizer
fill the waters as an accident of mechanization:
I submit it’s high art, and with the addition
of partly digested vitamins and medicine –
gifts of rural farms and leaky septic tanks –
it is now time to begin to bind

calling the most gentle wind a soughing southern
benediction in the night, sunburned suburbanites
showing it their throats, sniffing the sea
as the heavy abrasion of a storm cell flares
lightning snapping out parallel to the ground
battery to my infernal machine

eye of newt, toe of frog, dearheart, runoff
from a citrus grove, illegally dumped solvent
and family dog run off from home a week ago
plastic parts of a thousand dolls, useless shit
gleaned from shopping malls and discarded
layers of material to moil and blend

dearheart, well you’ll ask to what evil end
and the answer is I neither know nor care –
future generations will feel the hurt I cause
and if they curse me I’ll be safely dead
beyond their reach and reaping whatever reward
I’ve grown in the dark with lightning leaping

strike and strike, dear heart, my witness,
ozone rich and burning grass, the full noise
of the modern world, toads and deer
leaping and running into traffic suicidally
clogging the interstates headlong fleeing
but there’s nowhere safe to run

the lakebed is empty come morning a sink
cracked at the bottom with cuneiform mud
perhaps translatable by some wild-haired old crone
yet I’m beyond caring asleep in my celibate bed
slaked for days to come inside an empty dream
mortal tired because I’ve just messed the world

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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Preeti
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A stinging pain filled with sorrow…deeply melancholic…

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