59 Poem by RIC BASTASA

for you to know

I am lonely here like a deserted room
In the city
My windows refuse the orange moon
The sad calls only
Of the sea
Keep penetrating

My writing table has not grown words
Of beautiful shapes
Stunted scribblings only
By the wooden walls
And the lizards’ trails
On the hot ceiling
Keep streaking

such weird
acidity
stinking sticking
the day rains detest
this happening

i am waste liquid
splattered on cold floors
fetid urine
slowly drying throughout summer