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7197.
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i heaved a sigh
i heaved a sigh
passing by the store
seeing this handsome man
tragically falling on
a manhole
(or was he eaten
swallowed hole)
because there was this mirror
on the store walls
and he was looking at himself
rather than his steps
his name is Narcissus
RIC S. BASTASA
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7198.
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i hope i am just like you
i know
that you will be reading this.
This is thinking about man's capacity to quit.
TO dismiss what he grows inside his heart.
He was talking about the stalk of the fruit.
His end like the sap. The white sap
of the stain of the stalk of the fruit
the banana stalk giving off the
white sap from its stalk
cut off by the sharp bolo
when it ripens
he is talking about the mouth
and the last spit of the saliva
rabid. The dog finally goes off the street
and bites everybody.
I am bitten. And i have no last word to say.
There is no reason to quit.
everything ends. There is such thing as
a natural death.
soon it will come. I am waiting.
I try to tell you that there will be an end to this.
It is obvious. Too obvious. Like sunlight
to my forehead.
RIC S. BASTASA
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7199.
|
i hope you wouldn't mind
i have blind spots
i sometimes do not see what you see clearly
and i stumble down upon some thorns
and hurt myself
unnecessarily and i look at myself in the mirror
like a curious child wanting to see
who i am and what i am
only to find some wrinkles
in my mind
i hope you wouldn't mind if i tell you
that you and me have some things in common
blind in some ways and seeing well in others
i live in an island and there is a rock there
and a red rose that i keep all day
i like you to live with me
for i may have the eyes that see the rising and setting of the sun
and the hands and fingers that feel the warmth and the coldness
of the seasons that whirl around my head
may i ask you to please bring your heart
for i have long lost mine
it was taken by someone who promised to live with me here
that bird flew away taking from my lexicon
the word 'forever'
RIC S. BASTASA
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7200.
|
i imagine
i imagine
you
thinking woman
your elbow
calloused
on the table
by so much
thinking
your legs
scarred
your bottoms
bothered
by innumerable
ideas
coming out
from your
head
like the
colored
sparks
of the fourth
of July
i imagine
you sitting
on your study
a heated
chair
a burning
table
a room
crowded
with a lot
of warring
ideas
a bed
not enticing
you to sleep
i imagine
you thinking
woman
scribbling
your poems
burning
a dozen
candles
i imagine
your fury
your disappointments
your disgrace
your fall
from their
grasp
the bump
of your head
on their
shallow waters
thinking woman
be pleased
in truth
i have not
offended you
all my hairs
have decided
to fall
on the floor
and my eyes
have lost
the need
for eyelids
and be happy
we still talk
in the lines
of this
unstoppable
poetry
RIC S. BASTASA
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