Joe 90

[cloud]

Ugh, this reminds me of my childhood and now I'm depressed, but in a good way
I enjoy how you can craft a vivid line, you write as though the unconscious could articulate itself in word, I suppose that's art in essence lol
noticed minor spelling errors but overall I think you crafted your stanzas carefully as to not say too much or too little

"I need to steal a Russian Plane"
so Grandad's chair rotates clockwise 
as the process begins.
Head back in the spin, 
picture-rail portraits merge
into a single familiar face.

A life time of ornaments blur I got nice synaesthesia vibes in this stanza, yummy colors. perhaps a more lucid way of wording would benefit the way you like to saturate a line, imo
streaks of carriage  clock colour,
bright on tobacco brown walls.
Gas fire chrome lights up tile green the syntax is a little off for me here
as my brother's hands
slap to increase the speed.

Recovery is a moment of laughter, 
never long enough to breathe 
before the chair goes anti-clockwise 
and time is undone, the transfer complete. I know this was to explain the transformation, but it killed the imagination for me in a way

"velcome comrade" says my brother
and I can understand him.  I can't quite put my finger on how this ended weirdly, but it works