We build too many walls and not enough bridges. -Sir Isaac Newton

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In English we say that's a fallacy

In Poetry We Say

You called a part a whole

and the whole became its parts

and no one was going to pick up all the

pieces

so I did.

The question is

are you willing you take it all apart

to give up

everything you know

to start again

A is for apples but for me it was

Anterior Glide

He asked us to write a wish

On A Piece of Paper.

Change

I wrote.

This time reality broke 

And I found

  myself 

Waiting for Godot 

What’s the point of all of this 

Nothing is real 

Nothing matters 

Matter isn’t even real 

but one thing is 

Authentic 

And it’s not me, 

In this bell jar

My senses! 

Do I listen to the old brag of my heart

I am I am I am  —not

Or do I listen to Descartes 

To think therefore I am  

Sisyphus perhaps 

Is the realest 

Absurdity 

There is