Sweating and sluggish heart beat the eve of the eclipse in part might be the result of anticipation. Am I wanted or not. Rather than giving you some kind of ultimatum I’d like for you to dig a shallow grave and bury me up to my neck in loose soil. I’ll wait some more. Are you going to take flight? Will I crawl? I don’t think you understand yet what the vermin tell me when I lower my ear to earth. Tattered ship sails take us full speed ahead