"inherited chips"
childhood food chice boomerang'd
chill in the shade creeps pillbug
all times dwell in dimness
during this pure-sip instant
photograph's thought-thunder
therapy not through ruing
get up & go gallop
to ganch zero's blurt answer
parable? check. charboiled
chipmunk? tinchel's riptide.
startled chore? stay caraway
as the stunt dog bares scare-fangs
“I doubt if I am human in the accepted sense. I’m of another recension.” —The Devil is Dead
Ecclesiastes: Thirteen-Year Cicada.
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