Not even zilch to fill these lines, just void
Unfilled with words, an empty set of verse
Jam-packed with nulls. To write a poem devoid
Of matter, with its parts-per-million terse,
Laconic, infinitely brief, its lines
Resembling strings of zeroes that repeat
Like lone and level sands, where "what" confines
Itself to distant digits' incomplete
Perspective, "who" and "where" remain abstract,
And "when" is rendered nonsense as slow time
Weds silence; it's not easy. Words react
To thought-time's curvature. Around this rhyme,
Nil orbits nearly ceaselessly, undone
By singularity or formed by sun.
1 comment:
Hahaha. Delightful, making me smile, and seems to concede the nigh, nay the absolute impossibility of conceiving an empty sonnet. Unless, sans words we stare or point into a black hole and murmur reverently..."sonnet." Would that even work?
Excellent and a beautiful discussion richly laden, as usual, with such imagery/images as make the tapestry of a sonnet too lovely and worth a second or third reading.
You picked up my zeros and added digits, took null and added zilch...and your choice of words is fantastic.
Sweet. What next on this theme? And who frae?
Post a Comment