‘Tis the most of unusual of experiences
Where by first lurched forward
Thy stomach squeals
Thy nogg’n rocks about
The pit of thy core a mess
Behind thy eyes a migraine wells

Pity for a mother,
The cries of her young
Peirce ears all through the crowd
Not even first class can escape

Mine own head dubious to stay calm
Thoughts flutter about
Comprehend can no one of what lies beneath
The world from ones natural stance
Strikes no questions, for granted is how we take it

Cows be holy! What does one think of the
World when feet dangle so? Through the clouds
One sees order…one views The World at Large

If only thy could reach beyond the wing
And lay sleeping in nature’s own moisture
Hammock that so often we curse…from here
Only peaceful thoughts
When seen is a cloud. Plummet
To one’s own death if such piece was ever sought