In Working With Images.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

when we work with images
they become real, touchable,
i, too, smell
what has been transformed by
a dream
like a bread
baked
sending its fresh flavor
in the air

hot tea is served in the cold
corners of the mind

i am seeing beauty
and shapes of bodies come out from
glossy paper

i severed myself from the pains of
you

the images are real and they do not ask
if things are moral

i embrace all these images for the main reason
that i must live
my life
amidst the rules of this mundane games

every night i sleep late
transforming what this world thinks as invisible

in the morning
virtual leaves fall at the foot of the real tree
on top of grass, as green as my mind
flowers are flaming
like fire
in my belly.