I as you,
not one, not two.
Me dissolving,
into you evolving.

To be —
only full in we.

I've seen paradise
it is just a state of mind
yours differs from mine.

I wrote four words today.
Just four.

I bleed my hours into them.
Each syllable
I
weigh.

Like lifting stones from a dry riverbed,
turning each
over
and
over,
until one feels just right
in my hand.

Carefully
carving,
studying
and playing
with each one:
  Which catches the light just right?
  Which plays well with the others?
  What are you trying to tell me?

But mostly,
I discard.

Four words.

All my labor for the day--
Just four words.

It was a good day.

Brave birds bop 
On bare branches outside;
Grandpa’s dominating morning —
Grey and makes everyone flee.
Logic larks: get up and walk, see!
But bed, with an abundance of blankets
And rain, lots of rain, drips don't be insane,
Get warm!
Despite this, cold sausages and coffee call:
“Eat me!”
And I do oblige.

Careful, you might find out…
Behind the scenes of all your doubt..
Pretend if you will to know all truth.
Overlooking the programming of your societal youth…
Be careful if you shall and close tight your mind…
Because the truth is on going, a continuing crime..

Through struggle
one can justify life
Losing the battle
enhances the view
Blood on the rails
all markings assured
Death as the prize
— recurring anew

(The New Room: June, 2025)