POEM: Fractal Echoes and Sacred Geometries

fractal echoes

prismatic fire

a world seen through a cracked mirror,

but cracked into perfect patterns —

like the jaali at the Tomb of Akbar the Great

patterns overwrite blank spaces

this reality hates the mundane


and how can that machine be so loud?

a motorcycle rode through my brain from fifty feet away

down on a street somewhere below


there’s a switch

i can’t see it

nor can i touch it

it’s somewhere in my brain

and i can flip it

and it zaps me into a reality, still and banal

that fades into pulsing closeness and periodic sound floods

as soon as i love the mundane an instant too long

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.