confused
I am sent from a book
to change history,
yours perhaps,
but I got trapped in this
subspace buffer.
Forgive me
the personifying I
the illusion of time
that lets us speak
but what other tools do we have
than to paint an angry brow
on actor's face
than to let rainbow scatter
a mosaic of stained facsimiles
glued by unpretty wax.
I've seen your anger
sparking life
in the delta quadrant.
There is a wormhole
out of the cave.
