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Inveteracies...

a heap of dry leaves
under the trees

trees like fingers
stretching to reach
the moon

on the marshes
of the big river
the full moon sits
silently

a dog barks
this morning
at the wrong person

someone calls my
name but i do not dare
look back

promises are
feet without floors

faith is always
a blind item
and people accept
them always to
be true
and all giving
and
reliable

blank walls
speak too much

doors close
at the wrong hours of the
day

windows imitating
the natural
beauty of some
sexless eunuchs

facing the monitor
i am the nuclear
sun
threatening the room
that the explosion
is near

the dusts run in panic
the winds
stir the pebbles into
rebellion

etcetera is when
you do not know what is next
from your
self-proclaimed
knowledgeability
30.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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