How Did Poetry Change Our Taste? Poem by RIC BASTASA

well something bitter has become
sweet.

we have converted hell into
heaven.

an abandoned thought into a crowded
street.

the face of noise has been transfigured into
a face of a church made of silent bricks
and indifferent lime.

our sorrows? oh yes, they have become ours.
we assume that we also know how to make their sorrows as our sorrows.
Life likes it. You are good. Thumbs up.

our house of stone
has become a page in poetry

our daily routine of boredom
has become one kingdom of excitements
as to what word to put next
on the coming line
of our morning literary rituals

chants, more chants, om, om, om,

oh my god. They're coming. I am coming.
And here i come.

What? What are you talking about?
Oh yes, I am talking to myself.

That is the beginning of my journey to poetry.
Talking to myself and not trying to understand any sound.

Illogical even. But when i write them,
well, there is some form, sound, scent,

and then i honestly declare. This is what
i really like doing.

No signboard. Just plain going.