Aquatic Ghosts of New England by Carl Annarummo fr. The Long Hallucinations She came to me in slurred steps. It was on a Sunday and I'd been sleeping soundly. This all took place in the back of the Scholar. A great leap in the casemates of the sea -ships were embrasures for gunfire. There she was signaling to the stern: strong headwater ahead, but a break in the torrent for a few flying graves to follow you through. We were all graves. The Putrid Peon Boys dictating lists of prospective ship names and shipmates. There was Exeter. There was an Ambrose missing. All the women fled up into the ghost clouds except her. The list was then thrown overboard. And for hours nothing but the activated twilight aghast us all for free. { airforce joyride }