Does 1 hide a 4?

I suppose like the universe, poetry is similar. Very surprising and sublime. And sometimes a drug.

Imagine turning four things out of nothing. This is a research project from the big ripple. Anyone can!

Warning: Two poems next.

The rose rises above all just to wither and bleed into black flower sizzling in hot grease.

My scale of time by philosophy: Life can demand weirdness from us in terms of time + space (That is not the hope for life itself.)

To bite my bullet is a ride. Afterwards run that race. Inside the dread cityscape. Find then fleas at the market. In hotels.