The Vision In the vision of myself as electricity encased in a black rubber sheath, there are wires in the walls of my body. Lightning bolts drop from my fingertips and the jerky squirrels in my yard are seized by lightning, the epileptic squirrels. How this energy is in hell is this fireball harnessed how it could be held if needed. Power lines lasso my horizon. Transformers on the march across Kansas drag their heavy lines and for once I am lacey light. My lines are sails that lift in the tender morning air. My webs invisible in this light.