Sunday, December 20, 2009

Universal Paradox

I wrote this one today.


Universal Paradox


A poem about nothing,
is nothing but trouble.
It would,
one assumes,
have to be in blank verse,
(naturally)
tidy and terse
so as not to burden
readers with any thoughts
more weighty
than meringue,
a metaphor which,
upon reflection,
doesn’t serve at all,
being something,
no matter how light and fluffy.





Consider nothing . . .
and the problem
stands stark before us.
Even dark matter,
nothingness itself for eons,
now suffuses space
between the stars
with something,
(we know not what)
a concept considerably
more weighty
than meringue on a pie
the size of Jupiter,
or Alpha Centari,
for that matter.
And that’s the trouble
with a poem about nothing.


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