Lull
the structure of
life and our belief system
must be simplified: yes,
there is man
and up there is heaven
and down there
is earth, it is very much like
the Japanese
flower
arrangement, and come to
think of it,
the woman stands up
and registers
and objection: 'where is my
place? '
actually, this makes no
sense,
this poem
it is the lull of time
unused
the rhythm
of aching eyes
and boring existence
the way
to complicate things
like some
pubic hairs....thoughts
entangled
to the traps of the
webs
of the spider-woman
one eye looking
blankly
at the monitor
the other betrays it
with
a non-mindedness
the numbness of
sight
the shortness of time
and the lack
of genuine breath
where it the exit
door from all these
lulls?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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