By Jewel Andersen  Oscillating between reality’s thin wires, flashes of Samhain fiending fleshed fires. Echo poised on the cliff’s edge seam, fish-mouthed and bowed in gaping scream. Or Ophelia — weed-laced and willow dazed. Nettle at wrist, daisy gaze half-raised. Foam-veiled, unmade, she mouths the flood — dream-drunk on silt and spindle-blood.