Trevor Bashaw

                                                    i             i             i
                                                             into my
                    there is a radio tower in my backyard. it is a
                    metal structure gunmetal grey spiny and curt.
                    there in the cold               deceit of sunshine.
                    winter slush on         sidewalk compacted into
                    ashy clumps of       grey brown blue and white
                    bitter to the sight,     singing the hands, winds
                    howling clementines     and fried rice wafting
                    down outdoor corridors             made marble
                    in my mind, a glass sphere of solitude  where
                    i merely watch. i merely listen and learn what
                    the world needs me to learn, say what the world
                    needs me to say - i try not to get in the way of it,
                               The 5G speaking through me…

did you know the spinal column forms a weak radio transceiver? like a tower of teeth     notched into one                another, gnawing against each other, gnashing    eternally gritted in harmony, fused with
white-gum-sponge. our bodies are receivers of a tenuous consciousness from    the universal holofractal
simulation. quantum entangled         with a soul. antennae tuned into a personal frequency.
                                              our natural resonance …
                                    when     disturbed one     might    say,
                                            “vibes are off.”  “i get bad energy.”
                                             ears may ring.     blood pressure
                                             may change,         or blood sugar.
                                             agitation of floaters     in the eyes, they may begin     to move                                                                  erratically. one can learn to guard it. one can    learn to tune into
                                             one's own melody and harmonize it with the surrounding space.
one can     hollow out ones brain to create    more room for
                alien contact.

O Alien light beings    please
take me away. please deliver me from solitude, please
show me the     path     of     dreams quilted into the
                       fabric of homosexual existence.

                    take these wrinkles, unsightly things,
                       webbings         tingle,     crinkled
                                veins crumple         in paper
                                            canyons of     eroded rock
                                   or bunched     vellum. pane
                                            of glass,    shattered
                                    lacerations,     stress marks
                                    stretch—these indications of wear

the heart     the window in the throat
the raw red    hinges on the throat
congeal     with     resuscitation, spoken
like a rope maw drawn tight like curtains
on a rod, crunched linens - undrawn - then light shines in ❃