I feel the electricity
move me past the grey cliffs
of the horizon; but, unlike
them, I don’t drop to my knees
to the sea. I am afloat,
not on a wave, but on a current
of ghostly particled energy
like a torrent from a
hidden wormhole, microwired
to the orbits of planets
And I feel neither this way
nor that. Stationed, occasioned
to an ungravitational motion;
as if the entire universe itself
responded to my location
and dislocation. And my time
on the latitudes and longitudes
of incarnation, felt its invincibility
in its vulnerability. And I am
platonically perceptive in my pain
No crime against me can obstruct the vision
of God, who constantly dies; and rearises
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