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

Ray Dolby In Memoriam
His very last thought was: "How fragile we are" -- a checkmate on his life-long disregard for safety a cavalier attitude favoured amongst the indestructible. Her very first thought was: "I'm about to forget everything again" -- and she did. Then she found her feet, and her voice; first learned to babble, then her mother's tongue -- a new, foreign language that became her own mother tongue The most important thought he ever had was of how a photograph of his recent wedding was off balance. The marriage too would be out of kilter the two never quite finding the right footing with each other forever standing at odd angles In the morning the thought was: "I'm going to be a mother" -- a biological accident consequent to a night of heavy drinking and the loose morals of a decadent society. The thought was formulated half consciously, without managing to reveal to her the implications to her life, her tired parents' nor to that of a child predestined to a life of mediocrity A googolplex of thoughts, in the minds of a colony of ants, of modern men, of sprites and zephyrs, and small deities. The one composite thought in the übermind. But what of the noise-to-signal ratio? Does anybody even know who Ray Dolby was? [25-IV-2010]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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