RIC S. BASTASA


11 - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

we keep on untangling
the vines
that choke us
each hand has
no place on the
secrecy of old time's
breast

it is the season of
freedom
freedom from roots
and barks
tasting the bitterness
of what this self
has inflicted upon
its flesh


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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 30, 2010



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