Sylvia Is Dead

all the stages are for her,
she burned her head whole
inside an oven and she keeps the
riddles of the nine syllables
crisp, and firm, and creepy
that is sylvia's best
and look
here comes the rest,
they follow.

intense, so so intense.
painful death and deadly poetry.

my soul rises to the 7th heaven.
i, am, too,
intense, like, you, too, two, the
two of you,
intensity lost
recovered
in a minute or so, so so intense.

i feign death.
i still love to solve the tenth riddle.
the three monkeys are still with me.

they are so cute.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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