Red Skies Poem by RIC BASTASA

that afternoon the skies are red
as tulips
the emotions however are like
stones
gray and dry

the world is sac-like

and one wonders
if music as a harmony
within the heart of
solitude
can still jibe

come to think about it
the active element
is still you

work it out then like
a piece of art

a sculpture of rivets
a canvass of smoke
a poem about chalk
and erasers,

diverse, reverse, collide
like water molecules
in sulfuric acid