Nothingness

 

Nothing is the starting point that

I must chew on

for a reasonable amount of time.

But who’s to say-what’s reasonable –

a minute- an hour? A year?

But something must come out of this

nothingness- a meaningless poem

that reeks of a stale room

on a hot June afternoon

 

Or an epiphany perhaps,

that nothingness feeds into nothingness

And grows

- shaping a poem that cannot be written

 

It must be birthed in your imagination-

With me saying nothing

and you understanding the void.