in the market you sell your <br />poetry, the ones that you wrote <br />for a span of <br />forty years, and it is not selling <br />no one buys <br />you advertise, you dance, <br />you sing to be noticed <br />this vendor in you <br />has become too degrading <br /> <br />i must have written the worst ones <br />those bleeding words <br />those crying letters <br />and without any intention of <br />infecting those who <br />are dancing on the streets <br />strolling on the parks <br />those kissing under the trees <br />i keep them all in a bundle <br /> <br />bound with a warning: not fit for <br />your reading. <br /> <br />they better be my own <br />secrets lest they all offend <br />this happier world <br />where you claim <br />you live in....<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poetry-vendor/
