Transmission

All these words

merely drops

of thought

from one life

to another,

in another time,

in another place,

in another world.

Communication

Can you tell me when I can breathe again
I have been doubting my instincts
I feel as a lamb gone astray
Where is my shepherd
Am I the only one
That can guide me across
The fields beneathe Heaven
What dark grip holds me hostage
With no ransom
I am not chiseled from granite
Though even in time
Granite would erode
And be smoothed to nothing
Sleep may be the solace I seek
Though I remain awake
And unable to convey
The way words and thought
Twist and convulse
Unable to find their way
From thought to hands
To find their way to you
To find another soul
That can hear

Angling For The Heimlich

Nothing to say
with no tongue to say it

Words on the white page

I choke

on the silence

           between us

bridging

Mute transmissions
sent through psychic vibrations

you don't believe in any
of that

Stepping back
through antiquated means
of communication:
-fax machine
-rotary phone
-telegrams

though, morse code
still has its uses

bridging distant shores
one continent

cannot kiss
the sand of another

water serves as messenger
winding around the cape

of good hope-
reaching for another shore