Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Nothing Means Nothing

Even in a field
Of plenty, time is
Of the essence. That essence
Is nonessential.

Life is an old man’s nap: long,
Fitful, unexpected, and
Equally unsurprising.

I cannot really believe
That I shall rise tomorrow.
I am a conglomerate

Of the happiest English
Words, heaped-up leaves to buttress
The ground against the falling
Snow. Insulate as you go.

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