12: 50...... Poem by RIC BASTASA

at this hour the sound of the
electric fan is at its loudest

everything has surrendered to the
much needed silence

it is the reign of the dark
and there is no wind and the dog is fast asleep

i am the new spectator and i speak inside myself
like a stranger asking so many questions

what is this place? why is it going deeper?
where have all the people gone?
why are the trees shedding off all its leaves?

it boils down to who i am
and what i am doing at this very late hour

i watch a scene
i pay attention to the flashes of shapes and colors

there is no scent
there is no flavor

the sound of the fan screams
i am so patient and i still listen

to keep myself preoccupied
i keep on talking but i know for sure
that at this hour
no one listens