Swift colors Outrace the peristalsis of the Weird Night
Twisting spine meets the wide vibration of line, line with twist, thick as a wrist holding what's human, Hands
Potato turns to print, bark to spice, burlap to plague to mutation to Revolvers
I dove down the throat of the night, and choked it, flailing;
EXHAUSTATION! and fell to the belly, to the ocean. The inverse splash roars in my ears, ears like eyes, watching the foam, a trillion liquid spheres with sound, orbiting and invisible.
I made the ocean one thing, and
I swallowed it backwards in time
Found it behind my belly
And I feed it now with swift colors, and when I curl up small enough to fit inside a single drop of water
On my hand, without shivering, only elating,
When the breeze hits, and hits me whole
And when the huge dog lurks over the snail, I don't believe nuthin'bout neither.


Did you make it? Do you know the big love I have for you all? You're in my thoughts. And I trust that you'll celebrate big for this. I celebrate you. Send me a GD address already. Kisses to everyone. Don't forget Robyn's squelching, and that with a viking on board, there's nothing you can't pillage.

Congratulations, Sailors. I'm so damn proud.

Once you sober up (not in a SOBER way, of course), don't work too fast. I can't make it till June.

-Lo