1A.
An inch horizon churns its shadow land this morning,
and i find but a chary vim to hand this morning.

Car bombs downtown paralyzing root and branch
among impostors God's a burning brand this morning.

Your lilt in troublous days aligns my vagrant yaw;
i finish nomad tracks in Maui sand this morning.

Nidor at a standstill, car still wanting aid,
i hum an impish ditty you command this morning.

For Grinchus found upon alarm invasion jangling
his mind was dight with Kali's hall so grand this morning.