At Ph.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i do not say
that we who keep on writing are like those flies
trapped in the bottle
wanting to find an exit...

this is the bottle, we are the flies, and
we all love it here.

there is less air, but we manage to breathe.
there is less space, but we co-exist

this an enclosed world, and we are the letters
that they have sealed inside those envelopes

somehow, the envelopes arrive
in those distant places, and here we are

read by you.