Occam slit his wrists.
All over again.
Easiest thing in the world.
Paul Celan filled his pockets
With mossy stones,
Deriving the weight of his genius.
Koestler lost his mind
Enough to exit,
To take a final walk around the ocean.
Sexton and Plath commiserated
With sphinx-like smiles
Unfolding the ironing.
And I hold on
To a handle
Connected with nothing.
Face-to-face with the mirror
Reflecting the Fates.
Easiest thing in the world.
What is?
Saved by a question
All over
Again.