Crusoe

Quite clear now
of Water or Sand;

My eyes
have been cancelled.

I stand on the deck
and turn my vast array--

my darkful satellites
up towards where

I imagine
Earth would be.

I remember
a wolf-like creature,

its octopi appendages
hovering over the conifers.

I will call him "Legs"
because the spiraling

has burned great
cities into my cryptic thighs.

I can't feel anything
from the waist down.

Sometimes I think
I might be him,

attaching my permanence
to the constellations in the lake.