With spit or spite, I’ll fix myself to the image of my self, and on it I’ll ride down this mountain. Tundra tumbling from every orifice. Elegies howled from hidden caves and sweet mossy groves. Lions with heavy winter manes look up but let me pass. Seraphim lowering their swords in salute. I am my shield, flying in the face of wisdom, against courage. Shocks rippled through me like thunder when the hammer struck. I was forged in the secret smithies where time winds down and evolution begins to flow backwards. Sharkskin stretched over me like a birth caul. Fibrous beings infused themselves through my feet. Deepening. Windows opened spontaneously around the world. And through them I flew into fireplaces and vaginas. Ovens flared and exploded. Storks fell from the sky. The colors which had always separated us spun together into threads and cloths. These we cut in shapes to suit us. Longevity was not an issue nor our aim. We traded teeth in the back room, but you spit mine out and they bit me. I climb you, and you climbed me. We cleft rocks with our thoughts. We spotted places to rest. You first, I’ll keep watch.