I Do Not Correct Mistakes … I Play Poem by RIC BASTASA

it so happens that
i post a poem with some errors
not of feeling but of
grammatical lapses and she is afraid

that people may begin to belittle me for such
unforgivable simplicities of
mistakes unaccounted

but i tell her even beforehand that i am
always unapologetic
even unkind
or indifferent

i am a person who does not go back
to review
and correct errors

i laugh at them knowing that they have deceived
me into such a corruption

somehow life is like that
we rush to get out of a door only
to find the wrong key in our hand
and we are having a hard time
opening that
which we closed
and we cannot enter anymore
except when when we break the door &
open it forcefully
with a hammer

the noise is painful
having to break in
your own room with locks forced open

like an invasion of your own
body destroying it
breaking your heart or
bones
tearing your skins apart
or slicing some flesh
because you made a mistake

i like lapses,
errors are not supposed to be
minded at

life is like that
no crying for what is there already

sometimes
i don't even solve puzzles
i let them be their own problems

as i sit on the sands
watching the sun
set
feeling the cool winds when the
world starts to lose
its light
and surrender all its arms
to the power of
darkness

and when it gets too dark
i begin to play again
like a child left by mother
abandoned
by father

under the moon under the rain
and all alone.
i like it when i listen
to the bliss of my own wild
laughter