Typhoon Poem by RIC BASTASA

typhoons are not that strong
sometimes
they behave like
critics, passing by an
island, saying, hey you
are not an island after
all, you are just a hill
fit for a Bollywood
scene

I am in that island
feeling some itch
of its breeze, but i was too
busy then
climbing one
of the narrative trees
there

and he asks
is there such a thing
as a narrative tree?
i crack the nut
and drink the clouds
there
and he is filled with
so much
awe,
he gets itchy
and scratches
all the skins
and even the bones
he rattles like
a snake
and wants to bite

the narrative tree
has everything
to offer
gentle, and soft
and conversational

but he wants to deny
this kind of tree
saying
there is no such
thing as that
and this

oh my, what a man
he is
structured in his cage
not knowing
that he is meant to
be free
from the shackles of
his verse
from the narrow alleys
of his
rhyme

goodness, we do not
even try
grafting the metaphors

i love it here
this island where i touch
him not
but he touches me
i guess
that is envy.