SHALL I BREATHE INTO YOU?

SHALL I BREATHE INTO YOU?

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

The grace of the wind has no boundaries.

We have minds

that become sequestered by unbridled thoughts

such as love wandering the corridors

as we try and hang their pictures on the wall.

So many of the images are hung

but in their crookedness they look perplexed

as if I had forgotten an important element

that would justify their appearance.

The grace of poetry for me has no rhyme.

We have tolerance

for the old tree that has rotted and fallen

knowing it enriches the forest, and

we compost the heads that read our verbiage.

If I look around and see

that I have contributed to the growth of mind

then I have been a good farmer.

A wondrous experience is life, and I

a Johnny Apple seed with a bag so robust

I thought it would fail me.

We feed each other’s minds as poets, usually

feeding our bellies first

people can become hungry pigeons, waiting

to be nurtured by our prose.

I live in the mind of the Renaissance, and lost

my virtues of the present times.

The coach carriage wheels still turn

telling you that my mind is not here at all.

I live to admonish the suffrages

and annex myself to those hearts in waiting.

Should I teach

or embellish my rantings?

The consequence of my works breathe …

Shall I breathe into you?