A Game Of Words In Any Place At Any Time... Poem by RIC BASTASA

this is my favorite game of words
that i engage in at any hour of the day
and in any other place

i can create them outside the paper and
without the use of pen

sometimes it happens that way when i ride
in a bus and the destination is 36 hours away

or even in a span of minutes
when sleep does not come

or when nap is nil

my fingers help to put music by tapping its nails
on the metal rail

and there is dancing and singing and some speeches in between

soliloquies
silhouettes

six-shooters
jailbirds


farmers reaping
hay on a sunny day

as though the room is a place where
party and conversations co-exist

i do not put more than what is necessary
it is enough to just survive the hours of pressure
the little training of torture

the principle has always been
i only use what is here

i discard what is not found here

there are no expectations from the beams
there is no show of shadows

i let imagination go
and let reality stay for a while

one by one i enumerate what i can contain by the numbers of my fingers

i think of the names
of friends

i gaze upon myself
i am glad i give myself a smile.