an emptiness
in space,
so too am I
mostly an emptiness
in feeling—
and no, the two
are not the same thing,
as that feeling
is what keeps me
from demolishing
the world.
*
Picture
your discretion
getting massacred
by gestures:
god begets
light
begets
reliance—then
suspicion.
*
Our lookalikes
are all defective, but
don't say that out loud.
Would you settle instead
for a happiness contingent
or vicarious?
Or how about
a "later"
encircling your "now"
with all
the exactness
of an electron cloud?
