transit authority

forests_of_rain_s

While forests of rain
are tumbling from the clouds,
she sleeps.

From each exhaled breath,
swarms of insects, transparent to opaque,
spiral fluttering, butterflies to birds
inflating,
to armadillo exhalations.
And soon there will be humans
in the aisles of nature’s
megastore.

In a flurry of her own creations,
the goddess wakes.

I will not take that path again.

~/~

On the rocky banks of the Amazon Canal,
where once the melting Andes snow
dawdled on its journey to the sea,
we gaze upon two remnant pools:
los ojos del diablo,
the devil’s eyes.

The Goddess Transita berates me.

You must not race to your story’s end
when you’re at the bare beginning,
in headlong disregard of protocols and rites.
Your words and actions must take
well-measured time.

She studies a charcoaled jawbone
with expensive dental work
and tosses it aside,
a contemptuous anti-Hamlet.

When she turns to me again,
her eyes have narrowed.

Anachronistic humans
are redundant here.

Your deliria of desire
have no place.

I beg, I plead, I make my elevator pitch:

I’ve studied management by matrices
and lies, served tea
in the company boardroom…

but she throws me in the nearest pool
before I’m halfway through.

As I descend, I wonder if
the cold blue deep
inside the devil’s eyes has wifi,
so I can write my back story.

~/~

I drove the night, headlight highways,
points to pointless destinations,
through clouds of rutted dust
along the Razorback to Camden.

Me and you, between us,
distance markers tick off time,
parsecs, light-years, minutes, miles,
from Aldebaran to the Andes.

No ink escapes the page,
no pixels leave the screen,
all my hollow thoughts have been expressed, inspected.
Yet one synaptic link away,
an untidy mystery waits unnoticed.

~/~

On board a hypertrain,
blue-eyed Inspector Transita,
uniformed in jungle green,
contemplates my offering.

This is not a ticket
from the Razorback
to the Amazon (light meal included).

It’s mediocre scribbles on a crumpled
paper napkin.

Oh really?

You’ll have to pay a fine
and disembark.


about
An apocalypse without severance pay; my experience serving boardroom tea is described here; elevator pitch: a short persuasive sales pitch; a hypertrain is an ordinary train with “hyper” as a prefix.

artwork
forests of rain (part above)

26 thoughts on “transit authority

    • Thanks Peter. You’re very welcome, I believe clear informative explanations are vital. Sounds like you were promised an ultratrain, which is spelt a little differently, but also travels in the realms of fantasy. 😜

      Liked by 1 person

      • PS: I could have changed the first comment and deleted the second, but I do love your dramatic turn of phrase for a minor typo. Evidently you have learned a great deal indeed. 😁

        Like

    • Thanks Daniel. One reason I keep going with inconstant light, despite the end-of-year rush already setting in, is that I don’t want my imagination leaking into real life. When I was a child, I had the “serious” condition of an “over-active” imagination, and I kind of think imagination has to go somewhere, like an incompressible fluid, so I prefer to inflict it on unsuspected readers. 😁

      If that’s the case, then the devil invented the internet. And computers.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Pingback: transit authority — inconstant light | Fantasy Sources: Art, Gifts, Ideas, Article Resources, News. Thank you for reposting, Steve says, although he usually doesn't talk about himself in the third person. Not that much, anyway.

  2. Oh, your Transita has a heart of stone. She will not take that path again. Pissed off! What a beautiful opening! There are so many jewels. Those deep blue Devils Eyes. Points to pointless destinations, the untidy mystery waiting unnoticed… Lovely way to start my Sunday morning.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Muchas Gracias, BG, my pleasure. Who wouldn’t be with what we’ve done to our world? Pointless destinations and untidy mysteries, that’s me in a couple of words. 🐒 Mind you, kicking me off the train was a bit heartless. 😃

      Liked by 1 person

    • If it went on, it would only get worse. I particularly regret my giant armadillos eating one company’s upper management. The Goddess has many names, and sometimes she works on public transport, inspecting humans. Maybe she doesn’t like smartphones, who knows? 😁

      Liked by 1 person

      • Hmm … you don’t sound particularly sorry about upper management being devoured by your giant armadillos. (Marx would’ve been cheering from his grave.) The Goddess sounds like a shape shifter – fascinating. If she’s not a fan of digital technology, we’re all in big trouble. 😲

        Liked by 1 person

      • Eternal considerations. I have brief moments when I seem to be other worldly but they don’t trouble me that much. Someone once described my appearance as Italian priest from outer space!

        Liked by 1 person

      • That someone definitely has a way with words. 😉 I’ve been trying to fit in and not be noticed forever. And failing. One example–a Saturday night fancy dress, dress code: outlandish and ridiculous. I thought “I can’t go wrong.” I wandered amongst the party goers in my cardboard top hat, lab coat, wearing three ties etc, and luckily it only took me a few minutes to realise I was at the wrong address.

        Liked by 1 person

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