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Handshake, handover,
the same old agenda,
a lowride of commas
repeating in order.
A lowride of commas
with tidals of notion,
a call-response pattern
through distance and border.
A call-response pattern,
transmitter, receiver,
projector and canvas
in communication.
Projector and canvas
aligned with a signal,
a perfect clear image,
a photon vocation.
A perfect clear image
down trusted synapses,
a streaming deciphered,
demanding attention.
A streaming deciphered
and matched in the riddles
from memories sunken,
now lured to ascension.
From memories sunken
now rises a notion,
an association,
reaction and filing.
An association,
a vision connection...
What do my eyes show me?
It's you,
and you're smiling.
that someone besides me actually uses the word "synapse" in a poem..I think I have used it twice :) you have a great imagination Ice, I enjoy reading your poems...maria