Convoluted......Folding Bed. Poem by RIC BASTASA

the day did nothing
bit by bit, it did not arrive
at something whole
like a circle for instance
something's bothering
like a landscape that never
closes
ends are opening
so incomplete that it is the mind
that goes on
dovetailing what is not there

it is this sophistication
this flare for fire this frame
of reference
the ant has arrived at a point
when the issue is no longer whether
he is happy with the empire or not

it is just the constant walking in line
operating on the smell of the day
the sun-dance in the sand
forever numb and no longer asking
what is really happening

i like to think that i do not have to think anymore.
it is comfortable, when we only have to watch and not
even speculate about consequences.

the house is not a resting place
neither one worships God in the church.