Sunday, January 15, 2012

Brittle Words

Sunday morning
laying in bed
letting all the monumental somethings
float by

Once in a while
when it's perfectly still
the occasional all-encompassing nothing comes
what we, with brittle words, call love

2 comments:

S.E. Ingraham said...

This is such a profound little poem; I had to read and re-read it before it really sank in ... I think it's the "all-encompassing nothing" that grabbed me finally and brought it home ...

Hannah Stephenson said...

As Sufjan Stevens says, "Words are futile devices."

As speaking of Stevens folk, Wallace would love this....

It's excellent.