North Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is no need for you to ask
because there is nothing to be understood
there is no answer
and there will be no answer that will satisfy
the thirst of your mouth
and your mind
stay there and listen
see the unfolding of that which closes and
opens before you
this is rather exciting
a mushroom standing on its own roof
an anemone opening and closing its fingers
in the slightest notice of your presence
the rocks and the sands are terrible
they stand there
witnesses of so many crimes against the sea
yet their silence is sealed with the permanence
of the hiding, a concealment of
things which must not be revealed.
there is nothing here worthy reading
there is nothing waiting for an understanding
there is only a state upon itself
without a clap, a buzz, a slip of the tongue.
why must one insist that there is a code
a hidden secret embedded in one of the words
a phrase to guide to the exact location of
the treasure of Monte Cristo.
Let us be silent. Nothing is meant.
Nothing is called. Nothing is trapped.
There is only a caravan of words like camels
in the desert. They do not know a thing
about this journey.
It is only me. The Bedouin with an oasis
mapped in the lines of my palm.
A star overhead. The North of my existence.