Where The Innocent Finally Suffers., , , , , , , , , , , , , Poem by RIC BASTASA

articulation is a matter
of arranging the mess, to make
it look better,
artistically. Regroup what are
alike. Bees must be with
bees.
Scorpions deep inside that
dark floor, with sands and
cold stones. Something to hide
away from.

in the garden let flowers be.
in the garage keep the cars sleepy.
I mean it. Keep the house open.
Without the roof life would have
been better.
We need rain and sky and that vision
of the eternal.

this time it will be a painting.
Colors accompanying colors towards
a river composition.

i like the picture of a boy hiding
behind his mother's skirt. Mother
has no gun but a mouthful of words,


the sky is still bluer than ever.
the sun shines yellowness.
The house is small and smells of hay.

the sea is bluer than ever.
sailboats float and the world is bloating
with so much color and beauty.

and i watch all these by my window facing
the sea
the sea breeze is caressing my black hair.

as i begin to write another poem for you.
but this time after this i will try
another genre..flash fiction i suppose
something about murder, where the innocent
finally suffers.