RIC S. BASTASA


What You Do Not Understand Seems To Be The Most Beautiful.... - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

i have a bad voice
so do not expect me to answer your call

what you will hear
will be the sounds of coarse sands
clashing with pebbles
not the slushy sand that
Matthew hints
on his tryst with Eliza
on the secret bank
of the lonely river

albeit
what i ask of you is just read my letters
(or have time
with my poems
concealed symbols lurk there
like an old church
scroll

you will meet an old man
who is cantankerous
who drinks Tanduay all day
and night
and then forgets everything
nasty
and sleeps)

i do not ask for more
because i cannot stay that long
here
or somewhere

the more i put my feet on something stable
the more aches i have
i become sore like my toes
and they scream like
hungry puppies

the chickens feed on dung
and dung becomes justified
as a need
somehow

do not find
or look for consistency
that is passe
have familiarity with one that
is so unrelated like a metaphor
but strikes deep
in the heart of the most logical
connection

for all you know
what you do not get
or understand
at least for the moment
seems to be the most beautiful item of your life

and then the misery comes
when you finally understand it
and it is
bland, it is numb

listen to me
please, read my lips,
that is what the old drunkard
said to
the triumphant
and
startling turtle.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 29, 2011

Poem Edited: Thursday, December 29, 2011


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