CHEIRACANTHIUM INCLUSUM II

Again, a spider? God…

He happened for resolution,
I assume,
along the baby blanket hue
cloth ridges which shelter
my shoulders and their blades.

Did he mistake his rise
from my collar
as a birth unto high tide,
cast out by heaven’s hook?

If only my finding conversed:
How a murmur lives
minute as the point
found only at end
of your woven twist?
I have no knowledge, but I live.
How does organ play
any note with pipes
as your fragment wisps?
I have no knowledge, but I live.
Find a journey’s end,
or await my fist?
I have no knowledge, but I live.
Done away with flit.

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