sedentary native persimmon paralyzed by that viscous venom that leeches into and out of me, theoretically inculcated I suspect either from spicules dangling from delicate, shimmering sets of fey, bumbling wings; or else via galvanized steely tines electrified so as to congeal that blood which I conceived to be my own. 060525 what's it to you? who go blather from