A stray current whistles past your temple. It vanishes behind you, into the deep viridian.

Tiny baby bones of the earth snap and sink under the pads of your feet. It’s just rained and you are sluiced. Steeped. Baptized seven times over.

You slough on, muck clinging to your holy heels.

Space folds into itself like a piping slice-uh pizza. You’ve passed this log before. All the sighs in the multiverse slip out your lips. Out hunting. Loses self. Solid headline for a journal debut. Hope they get your name right.

Since you got nowhere fast, you might as well take five. Nose up to the canopy, droplets pounce on your cheeks. They skip from pore to pore. It takes a little while to feel the overwhelm creep in.

Frothy static fizz bubbles up. Five hundred far-off pixies ring fever pitch. Your periscope browns at the edges. Brown by pigments swargling off the palette and down, down into the drain. Brown by bear belly. Brown by ale after you lost.

In the browned viscera of your dizzy eye punctuates a flash of light so brief and perfect — it can’t be and it shouldn’t be but it definitely is.

Lids shutter to wipe lenses and the threads from your eye to your brain stem stretch taut.

Your perky little corneas swim from trunk to trunk, over ferns and shadow creatures and swollen caterpillars and the ant factions that run this place.

And the moon slips into view, eclipsed no longer by the earth. Her hooves press in. Prismatic.

Bright off her hide, it’s prisms times prisms. Dewey spectrums refracting, light soft and pulsing and you can see the dust of all time in the beamed up air.

Leaping from between her ears, antlers reach out to rake the heavens, grown strong on some alien axis.

Her head turns to you and the apex of those points cross your own bones, lasers glinting.