cicada summer in the sunny south — Kit Kelen’s response to John Bennett’s ‘Acoustemology’


cicada summer in the sunny south


it is a wooded tinnitus

and cast eyes down


or grey

how do they see?


Black Prince

with tymbals

as to masque

or tournament


thinking’s all apocalyptic

you bucket it out like a miser


to float through the garden

like a veil of wing flung


just these few weeks

to joust and mate


so armoured for the fray

because a stutter flown


stim music


strafe the ear


and perched

and cling


grim for


must feed on sap

as royals do


all chorus

(that’s to say, refrain)


song of the Magicicada cassini

head banging?

no, techno


and this one who was never king

but good for burning, ravaging

on all flanks and utterly

so here’s much booty brought


in the Jurassic were mega-cicadas


shall we feed the birds this challenge of flight?


in a certain stillness struck

can you hear the alien whirr of we’re here


lion gorged with three parts argent


we serve the nymphs deep fried


this must be the seventh year

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