It is the celebration of Nothingness
where I always feel the bliss
–though I would dance most wildly
at His Sable Majesty’s birthday parties.
And, like the wisest ones, I like to live
an insipidly wordless, stoic life.
I had an accomplice, as well,
a jumpy-jittery geezer.
He would often urge me and lamented,
that I was a somnambulist
and he was only a figment.
But when we arrived at the meadow,
where every assertion is a quiet, woeful corpse,
he just spat and trudged staring at the ground.