More than one way of going to the moon, it seems, or to trip off to nearby stars. I tried to play with the big boys this past Friday, but instead of soaring I went down a deep hole, relieved of dimension. Elvish creatures taunted me in this space, or lack of space. I was down there for centuries, in DMT time. Later, I ate three bagels, still frozen, and broke a tooth. I was dizzy the next day, and dizzy the day after that. I avoided everyone for fear of seeing through them. Time passed. I took to roaming the streets like a stray dog. My beard grew long and my clothes began to stink. Later on, sewers and miasmic surges of shit and blood. People above me laughing. Down here there is no moon, no moonlight pulling you up, though if you shut your eyes you can see constellations.
073. Lee Syatt in Outer Space. Salvatore Difalco
Published
City. River. Tree. 