My room is a prison cell

without a lock,

with two open doors;

one towards the next room,

one towards the balcony facing west,

from where the day can be seen disappearing

I read a little Samuel Beckett,

some John Cage:
Beckett a slapstick-stumbling labyrinth;

Cage a flock of sun-pierced ice cubes

I grow sleepy, put aside,

turn off lights, close eyes,

hear the first line of this text,

open eyes, turn on lights,

reach for pen & notepad,

write what I've written so far

and continue here,

until I stop, here