{Sat 29 August 2009}   On Emptiness
On Emptiness

So much there was, so much, so much
That isn’t there, was never there!
How could so much nothing take up
So much space and time and tear
Me from myself with such solicitude?
I have spun and spun with spider-touch
A web of words to hold and care
For answers that may never come
From me or you—that truth so rare
We seek and hide in solitude.

et cetera