Short Transmissions Poems

My mind is too pragmatic;
it cannot work the magic
of allusion, illusion, nor flowing script. 

When was my heart last ripped
open in love-lost-anguish or slipped 
into unexpected passion?

I am unable to refashion 
the impulsive neuronal transmissions
to create a cage of desire

or the heights to which you aspire.
...

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My Mother endeavored, to teach me to drive;
with transmissions, both standard and automatic.
Until it was mastered, she seemed as tense as steel;
on the car floor her feet were firmly planted.

Her eyes were so large, as she issued instructions;
her nerves were on edge, I’ve no doubt.
And when it was done, I’d had so much fun;
but Mom couldn’t wait to get out!
 ...

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transmissions of vibrations
seventh sense
we are witnessing
the music of love
rolling
hearing the movement
of the rainbow
dancing
feeling the wet sand
in the pink beach
in every conceivable
neutrons
perception of separation
shivering in the
epidemic of global fear
we are manifesting our
reincarnation
in the womb of a
divine raga
in a
bamboo flute
my battery is dying

july 12  12.16 pm...

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