The First Part Of The Misleading Venture Poem by RIC BASTASA

the poor [ i.e. workers of the farm,
pregnant corn husker, the driver of the
pedicab, the smoking tomato gatherer,
the sweet potato washer}

i am lost in the symbols
of humanity, i am trying to decipher again
the meaning of their visit
and they decision here to spend the night
at the second floor of this house
where my father-in-law died because his
son pushed him towards the stair
and hit his head
on the grinding stone

the bolo is sharp, blood flowed from the
pig's neck
after that scream

there is noise, and some magicians are selling
potions
when someone needs love so badly
and then resorts
of spells

the natives are smelling so bad
there is no water in the river where they come from
they are thin
there stomachs are filled with air
hairs with lice

i guess you know when this happens
and why this happens
because, it is fiesta time and there is no more road for us to use.