God is dead,
thus Zarathustra said...

To P&Q
Loneliness...

The penumbra of Illumination.
The echo of birds’ footsteps in silence...

You the killer of my father.
You the pain...

There was always me loving you
no past, no future...

Breeze,
the cool bed-sheet of white dreams...

The black man Jazzes
and fire...

Was I ever P like a penguin, living in icy...
or free like the D...

God is the basic good,
The rest, one, has to learn alone...

Where has the butterfly winged?
Where has the flower gone...

If you kill the messenger
The message forever...

I soak in the clear well of morning dues
to bespatter...