P@ul
why do you write as you do
I have told once
I replied
I am my own
no longer own by any woman
I am me the one and only surreal man
I live my life in 20 dimensions
which most of you see only two or three
but I can see more than three
there are some where beyond  that poor oak tree in wood
I imagine for myself in which you now live
and maybe never will
unless you read what I send you
If I was a blue bird
I would away and sing
it has been a year now
since I placed down
my pondering
and yet I think
what do I get back?