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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=494589" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Leaking Roof</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=494589" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">it is raining and here i am stuck<br>under the roof of a deserted house<br>the windows are open<br>nobody has come to close four windows<br>looking to the street like an insomniac, <br>the door is creaky like a sore throat<br>sounding like an incurable allergic sneeze<br>the crazy wind bangs it from time to time<br>and i do not mind the routine of noise<br>for a while a walk to and fro<br>like i am making a picket<br>observing the details of how a deserted house<br>can look like<br>or feel like: there seems to be a growling silence<br>abbreviating itself like a scream<br>cut short by my hands kept inside my pocket<br>i look up and see the leaking roof<br>making a rhythm of the dripping beat<br>of this poem.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=494589" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i have nothing in mind, i am empty<br>and emptying still. I take in so much quantity<br>of silence, the weight of thoughts, <br>the silly purposeless probe<br>of what i am suppose to be and where i must be going<br>after this temporariness of loafing.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=494589" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The rain stops. I am leaving.<br>The rhythm ceases.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>