Treasure Island

RIC S. BASTASA


Most Of What I Have Is


Anger, bull anger, dragon anger
Tiger anger,
Strong anger of twisters,

For the one I truly and truly love,

The desert and the volcanic ash
The ungiving, the unyielding

It is like,
A dead pond

Murky, brackish water,
It is the dwelling of
A porcupine-fish, just that,
It does not even swim
Or tried learning the art
Of swimming

It is my pain
This is my pain that I painted
On a piece of paper
One dark line in black
At the end at the rightmost tip
Is the red
Tip of iron-hot jagged-edge acetylene torch fire

It is aimed in my head in my heart

It is anger
That is angry to itself

And so everything in this pond dies,
The moss, the lilies,
The tadpoles the catfish the last catfish
Of this pond
Died the other day the frogs Stopped croaking since
The toads found warts on their throats

It is anger

A blizzard
Burst my eardrums

She may sing the songs
Of love to my deaf
Ears
Perforated Eardrums of anger

It is anger That keeps me alive
Its only desire Is to kill This anger this looseness

Submitted: Saturday, April 19, 2008
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