and you go like around nothing acting upon
momentum and the impetus
the maximum speed just slightly this side of the light
gravity-less atmosphere the better to drag your
*** through the after day physical retch
the warp speed drag
a day without bounds tends to make you stretch
left bottom lip hanging right eyelid droop
afraid to look
in the mirror above the transporter porcelain full of puke
that's how this space-time warps
a twentieth century dude
now alive breathing all this twenty-first century
technological slime
hiding away in an eighteenth-century agrarian community where
half the people are ****** I think,
maybe not, just they got bald patches and long crooked noses and big arms on skinny tall torsos
look like human ancestors in a way, they know everybody,
clusters of them in two bedroom houses and relatives with tattoos of
names under their glossy dead eyes hair that stands up on end
blossoming smells.
But, hey, I'm one them now. Losing my integral data on a strata set
confused.

just a pea
were I was
just
once I had a falcon
for a friend it landed on my hand
and hunted mices
far near more far for
he flew away one day
and I saw him yesterday free
flying on the blue of a
sky and a cloud happy
and I knew
he was good and clear and crystal and
where falcons were meant to flew
to the wee I stated with I felt wee then and
few times have I
been in the state of mind to know wee
or fair off in cloudy distance on a falcon's wings
insisting I loved him so