now that I’m dead
I can do anything
the old wavelengths shutter past my eyes
a hypnotic glimmer
steam rising round my neck
the maelstrom mainframe is turning too slow to see
out of my eyes
where wounded I grow antenna spikes
they hound the day above my house
looking for snipers
sunspot rovers
I can feel my body in the ground
sleeper cell foundry
turning the gristle into rope
to climb out
I leave one toe in the ground
to send its roots down into the water
looking for pirates
it sends up shouts about the day it’s having
moving the center to starboard
turning the sky into an eel
writing my name into the Weddell Sea
my territorial claim
bound by antlers
extends by episode into the canons
terrestrial root nerve shaking my face
I set the town asleep
and brake into the sunspate
ashes of fear flaking off my cheeks