there is this wonder about
what is really happening and
what is really said, as the words
keep pouring like rain in a summer's
day, like sunshine amidst the
darkness of the room with a
roof leaking, like smoke going to
the sky, like fire from the heart,
like chimney, soothed by soot,
like lights turned on at dawn
like steps sounding its nearness
to the door, like leaves that fall toward
the south, like birds resting upon a
tree after a long journey
things are scattered, and there is no
stopping, the winds move in different
directions, like thoughts, unstoppable
by our grammatical restraints,
litters, finally collect themselves like
crabs inside a pail of full of water.
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wondering-92/
