Man, he really suffered, twisting there in suspension all that summer. My god, he wondered, where are they? Where are my rescuers? As the muggy suffocating damp dropped false pearl by pearl into the bucket of fatherless nonbeing…as emptiness opened up its maw…maelstrom to consume him, the money, food, booze, paper and ink running dry…on the horizon across the bay, that pale green blue meniscus, curved like the arc of a hopeless pilgrim’s trajectory. Oh gods, goddesses, faithful messenger, spirit sprites, fulfill my destiny with the hope of completion…of rescue, of reunion…Will not the funnel and smoke smudge…first noticed by an old salt perched on parapet…oh gods help me to meet the vessel at the dock and remember to offer sacrifices on their altars…oh gods, goddesses…spirits without form…oh teach me to love my fate…this rock white blazing coast on a deep dark sea…this floodgate to a world long lost…here the purgatory of non-being obscurity a blessing far greater than the haunted peregrinations of a court power…will I one day pray for the clear horizon the blessed sleep of the unknown, of the forgotten…here in love with brilliant emptiness.