..There You Are...... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i know how fast are the days moving.
flashes of night and day. it is all
about walking and sleeping all over
again, like calendar pages that we
tear month by month. Rolled.

forgive my preoccupation about all
these mundane matters of liberty and
seclusion. A pile of paper works.

i look forward to that day when you
tell me that i am dead, which i may
have missed knowing. Know that i have
always told you, how always happy am

i. Meaning is self-made. Your art is
a shape and color of endless definitions.
an empty wall, a smudge of paints. Bottle

of colors and scents of flower petals by
the window. There you are emptying again.