Monday, July 11, 2011

Danse Libre (Theme and Variations)

"All poems trail behind them images that are part of them but can't be fitted in."

Unless of course we are what isn't,
In which case we've got nowhere to go,
Ourselves themselves comprising nowhere.

There can be only one empty set,
Only one null, one naught, one zero,
But my mind prefers to imagine

Bounded sets of various sizes,
Identifiable as our souls,
Vacuoles devoid of surprises

But presenting a certain presence,
To each its own unique emptiness
As if two nothings could be something

Other than the same preemptiveness
Subsuming boundaries and content
Alike, by definition, into

The space for everything that happens.
If we're nowhere, we've never been to
Anywhere and yet hold everywhere

And everywhen within us because
Only the empty set can contain
Room for all, with nothing to explain.

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