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Red Skies
that afternoon the skies are red
as tulips
the emotions however are like
stones
gray and dry
the world is sac-like
and one wonders
if music as a harmony
within the heart of
solitude
can still jibe
come to think about it
the active element
is still you
work it out then like
a piece of art
a sculpture of rivets
a canvass of smoke
a poem about chalk
and erasers,
diverse, reverse, collide
like water molecules
in sulfuric acid
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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