A Journey Away From Words Poem by RIC BASTASA

trees, lakes, sea,
boats and paddles, and smoke

and shiploads of
hands,

and feet on mud,
and cows grazing on the pastureland
and dragonflies still on the blades of grass,
when you are here and wandering,
you become
detached from words,
when they become

real, when you touch them
bathe with them, live with them,
when you do not think about how to put them
together
within the four corners of your paper.

you caress your hair.
it is not a word anymore.
it is soft hair,
soft hands.