The self as a membrane I cling to desperately
in an extinction event.

Every tattoo I would like to have
rendered here.

Lighting and unlighting.

Or: a series of weighted blankets customized for people I love;just enough weight to provide security 
without uncomfortable restriction.
In a dream, I finally get to see a whale. It rises
bubbling up from the sea, froth sliding from its
body, water making way for this great slick island
the color of a storm cloud. A storm cloud the result
of survival. Water knows how to move. I feel
small and I know I am. An astronaut—my cells
reconfigure in the presence of such scale. Its heart
alone could crush me.