Do Nothing Pages
Do nothing pages.
Both nothing and by myself.
Weird, scattered, brain poetry.
Chewing my thoughts as if there’s a train derailing.
Poetry.
Words collapse and they do.
Fall apart like beads scattered, nothing.
Trampling energy.
The sun bursting energy all during my thoughts.
Both nothing and with my friends.
We chatter around while I’m thinking about writing a poem about death.
With nothing except the sound of a trombone wheezing next to us.
Foolish pages.
Do nothing like a moth does nothing.
Just likes light, except we understand death too.
We think we do.
Scattered but it’s supposed to be that way.
Both nothing and having friends.
Bursting as well.
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