THE AUTHOR CLEARS HIS THROAT

A drift of snow, adrift in a sea of speculation,

turning over the flotsam and jetsam of the macro world,

speaking with Nano rising from and sinking back

into the abyss... . Though I don't much like Poe's

The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket,

I'm drawn to it, its locked-in adventure in the hold

of a whaling ship, the faithful dog turned savage,

mutiny, the final, fanciful emergence into a false

but beguiling Antarctica, a world that never was,

isn't, won't be. Somewhere in there, I'm.