Friday, February 7, 2020


Technically, there is room
and time enough 
in the universe 

for any foolish thing you say 
to come to pass eventually.
And there might even be 

utility in roughing-up the things 
which hurt you the most, 
even if, they, technically, 
no longer exist.

But those stacks 
of beige-brown days leading 
back toward adolescence  

start to smash together 
pretty fast, like the 
peanut butter sandwich at
the bottom of your backpack.

Imagination, that 
desire to create—this, too 
tends to halve itself over time, 

although less like a sandwich 
than an infinite series 
approaching its limit. 

Making verses 
killing time

is a correlation undefined 
as dividing 
by zero is. 

Not zero as in: no longer interesting 
or pleasing to the fickle crowd;
Zero as in: no distinctions 
of any kind. 

Try to keep in mind, we're 
talking about infinity here;
it's meaningless to choose 
between distinctions 

when the truth 
the whole time is: 
you could be both 

and wasting your life.