that early morning i take a walk
on the path beside a ricefield
on the other side about ten meters away
a man is spraying the ricefield with
pesticides
the birds are too innocent for poison
and begin to eat all the worms that fall
from the leaves of riceplants
i am breathing poison but the man on the other side
does not really know what he is doing
the air cannot complain, i could, i know,
but i am too busy about a lot of things and thoughts
the birds are feasting on the dead
worms, and
i left the place at once.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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