Maybe I don’t have anything
worthwhile to convey to the world.
Everyday I wonder what it’d be like
to have thought processes suddenly cease
and why is it that I’m not more fearful.
Some intellectuals continue arguing
on the most frivolous of matters,
or more important ones like areas
of baseball etiquette, transsexual politics
and other generalized areas of human pathos,
which in the micro-sense of the word remains incongruent.
Eventually, even the most passionate harangue
comes to an abrupt halt and if your thoughts become too servile,
then other uninspired issues and non-issues conflagrate
to stir up quite a bonfire on talk radio forums.
Could anything of lasting importance,
other than the present tense, be more centrifugal to the point,
that suckers both past and present carry on a debate without you,
as your opinion becomes like shards of glass
trinkling down upon emptying sidewalks.
The streaking comet you just observed overhead
responds momentarily like a negative afterimage
forever traveling beyond anything worthwhile remembering.
