My father was a lighthouse captain. This lighthouse (Amphitrite Pt.) was an upright locomotive with a revolving headlight. A highly lubricated spinning mechanism, working on liquid mercury: silver blood! Silver semen--the same stuff whirled within microsecond tolerances to form parabolic reflectors for great telescopes (astronomical observatories also towers for engaging distances across dark seas). Once it spilled. What errantry in the lighthouse tower room! He helped produce me, a happy songwriter. I am the embodiment of his felicity and free love. I represent what is not planned. I was wind in the accordion bellows of my mother's belly: I was gathered out of the air into a lump under a trapdoor in her floorboards. A fawn under the porch. Snatched from the continuum on the night or day I was conceived.