poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Minute of Silence
In my Living room I lay one comfortable afternoon and a tiny spider watched swiftly crawl across my sight. I reached out, squashed it. No spiders allowed. Perhaps my living room was not so much about living after all. The house all at once still, quietly observed a minute of silence. Its lightness and gaiety, as if linked to the little spider, now somehow vanished! Guilt. No spiders allowed, those are the rules. But now my house watches me. I feel its fear. Who's to be next? I've touched the life continuum; it now carries my wound. [3/10/99]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
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