Date: Mon, 29 Apr 2002 09:10:13 -0400
Subject: 


From: "Rasa Bhava" <pravritti-AT-mchsi.com>
To: <sa-cyborgs-AT-lists.village.virginia.edu>
Subject: New Po'em
Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2002 23:52:36 -0500
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New Po'em

He Left Justified
The sentence.
Suffering occupation,
I caught trying to enter with
The vital forces.
That door
To a mind hidden with surface impression
Built of edifices in the human dunes.
Personality, suffering occupation, 
Identified with a tree,
Ever growing in the light that is its natural God,
Ever rooted in the prison of its place.
Joy of enduring, the quality of living.
With the focused nature of survival,
I walked the clock-strewn landscape
Wheels and gears, the flywheel and arm
I could see structured in the distances.
Slowly the chorus of the words in multipath of circuitry
[Listening to the machine with the subtle voice
Coming into being]
Etched themselves into my surface recorder
Of my world screened among the chosen.
The overhead projector of the gods
Had scriptured transparencies.
I could point out the Diaspora
And make notes in the margin.
The fixation on the ritual practice,
Was dry reading that crackled
At the meeting.
Of Agni. 
Stone setting upon stone to be tested
The chain that held the weight,
Circling hands, the children laughed.
And all fall down, 
To chime upon the hours
Till the weight pulled up.
You will adjust and learn to be
Married as you are to the subtle form of institution.
The personality manager networked at the lodge
The surface mind hidden under the skin
The deeper mind in play of world.
Still they came to practice the dance
They appeal to classical movements
Triangulated.
The clock struck hour of timeless flow
The inverted poses of intuitive force,
The opening breath of the vast consciousness
Expanded beyond the feel of our surface measure
Expressed the beauty beneath the Fonted ceiling of reason.
In the end the corpse surrendered
A silent pain 
Listening to your suggestions
Relax your Temples
Relax your Lips
With each inhalation feel the light within
As you exhale let the light condense
And harden into form.

Sterling Hart