Alsyno the Leopold hat faster that tastes little crumbs of tangerine tidbits
whilst worthwhile smock bearers mock his artifice domain of back-town cement and iron castibles,
high risen formally decadent modern edifice escapements, now relay switch domiciles of derision,
fog strewn ledge monster’s archives, now tresses lounge chairs on sequin voyagers of serpentine sleds.
I wonder if he got his mark of glory in this Haven of Durst. So be it!
Not I, of Trilogans Hammer, though! I caught the tail end of the cameo curtain call and assailed for new lands.
Always of before and nambient of pre dawn, awakening to still the whistle kettle only.
Not of quest, or earnest. Of invested calamity of interests that tat tat tat on tin roof time.
And that is the beckoning to a fire angel’s eclipse. – Sinz