The Last Poem Shall Tinker With Mood And Meaning Poem by RIC BASTASA

silence silenced, and dreams dreamt,
and the speaker that listens upon the beatings of his heart
like a little drum inside his chest.
it is this resounding. this re-echoing
that like a spoon and knife to a porcelain plate
tinkers with the meat and beans,
segregating, and choosing little things
in colors and smell, and swallowing some and
throwing out the rest of what we
like to have inside us. sorrow and pain.
joy and bliss. yours and mine. you and i.

these are categories that we see and feel,
and care and care less and choose.
we tinker with mood. we like always to choose,
and discriminate, the spoon is a spoon and the fork is a fork.
and the knife that cuts,
we are careful enough. There is meaning now.
Blood drops out from your veins, and some beans
turn red. You cull out, what you want to believe.
you leave and carry with you
what is painless. That is as simple as that.

more or less, either/or. write the name of the person
that you love. Burn those that hurt you. Close the door.
Open the window. See the sun. And let always the moon
to kiss you by your window. It does not know what a door is.