.: falling into that sleepy realm, that aquatic dreamscape of warm, eddying, tropical currents. A feverish bath of pungent and living brine, most of my blood is saltwater. The days of recent week have tossed me from exultation, to exhaustion, and back again; tonight, the odd glyphs of m.m.w. are chiselled with sharp, electric crayons onto the soft tapioca of my mind. Perhaps at this moment I should be elsewhere, where my words might have taken me if I hadn’t popped their enthused balloons. But who wants to share the febrile debilitations that now burn my ears and swim in my fetid eyes? So, to the cocoon I go, wrapped in the fading smell of fog and fire, to swim in the kelp forests and– perhaps, if I am lucky and childhood wishes come true (however late)- to wake up as a sea otter, kelp leaves wrapped in my arms to keep me from drifting out into the open ocean. Goodnight.