* * *

They wonder,
they shrug their shoulders:
isn't it crazy,
to gather and waste,
to find
and never follow?

When finished,
it's solid and palpable,
it stays here and now,
to be appreciated,
nominated,
and probably rewarded,
or elsewise recompensed...

Sorry.
With me, it's different.
To come, and not become.
To be, and not to be.
Instead of getting familiar
and recognizable.

Wrong.
Painful.
Lonely.

The way I do it.
Just opening the ways.

1980