Copepods cluster under my toenails in blind, frenzied adoration
Mutant wingless bats hang in great numbers from my groin and armpits
Sandfleas hop about at my feet
High in the mountains granite and basalt faces grin in rugged, stony satisfaction
Mountain giants clap me heartily on the back with hands of iron
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I lie face down in the deep
Radiolarians radiating from my temples
Brine shrimp play in my hair, which drifts ceaselessly around my shoulders like a bed of gently-waving kelp
Small white crabs creep in formation on my back, raising their pincers in unison to signal my glory to the creatures of the air who wheel and dip and call out in strange unearthly voices from above
Phosphorescent foraminifera envelop me from head to toe in an endless stream of diffused light as I move slowly up and down in the great, green Atlantic swell.
