Prune Juice 21

eye contact . . .
particles appear smaller
than their wavelengths

inaugural flight
the eagle switches to
autocratic pilot

insomnia . . .
I yawn my way through
some parallel dimension

on a narrow road
to the heart of the moment
before time began

paper cranes . . .
I bend time and space
a thousand times

the reflections
of an alien species
out of my mind

wormhole trip . . .
my shadow and I
splice genes