Satellite Reception

like a bird spinning in the
dark of your eyes explaining the need for sleep
a vicious morphine cycle of truth like beauty
w/Keats & a bag of seashells

                              Breath is interesting I said
              doesn’t mean any less so
                                                entering that space as treasure
                              some other time

which is here balancing on one foot in front of the firing squad
changing your name to Abigail Nightshade, Atlas Prozac, T. Horse Gomez, or Connor Batwing & with the fog hanging just a few miles off the coast I swear the sky is bruised & I keep hearing the opening chords of Black Sabbath playing Iron Man in my head when I paddle out & the moon puts a dent in the tide