‘Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.
And, you gotta be something, if
You wanna be with me...’

The vice of life, I’m told, is not hate,
It is love. I disagree. I concur. Love is reticulated
By anti-matter. Which I once
Perceived as other-matter, when it
Expanded and lost its essence of
Half-life in our dimension, but alive,
Elsewhere. I was laughed at, without perception,
By my night-class Geology teacher.

When atomic ‘half-life', a plural, I believe,
which are long-lives, die, where do they go?

I can’t quite grasp
A universe without opposites. Maybe
we pour our half-lives into other places.
Nirvana? Utopia? Gor? Pern? Yes! Oh, Pern!
I flew into you in my youth! I was a crystal singer.
I was the ‘Spaceship Who Sang’! I was
All I read of other whens, except mine,
too humanly mundane. Too bound. Why is that,
I wonder. And, why not not be me? Who can belie
the wish to be magical, or a hero, or a fairy princess?
Who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?

Love? It’s in the catalog of life,
But isn’t always purchased, or worshipped
To all of the All, in the End. Why not? Ah,
Let me count the ways… I don’t have to, though,
We all have our tallies of life lived. Period. Periods.
Mysterious bits and bytes of inferiorism, wired, integrated,
And, clutched within giant computer towers of
puerility and outrageous lusts...

Puerility used to be pure.

I could imagine giving up some pride
For a scrap of bread, if I was starving, which I
Have, once, in such a nonexistent way, it means
Nothing. I didn’t have to give up my body,
Or my head, it was more a matter of luck…
Which I see, has stringently turned into
Screams of pasts. Nothing lasts.
Nothing, therefore I must be Time.

Whew, finally! I see Time baldly...

Ha! You think? The opposite
Of Nothing is Something.

Therefore, Time is Everything…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 2/11/06


You Gotta Be Something: Part One

‘Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.
And, you gotta be something, if
You want to be with me.’

The vice of life,
I’m told, is not love,
It is hate. Reticulated
By anti-matter, which I once
Perceived as other-matter, when
It expanded and lost its essence in
Half-lives in our dimension, but alive,
Elsewhere. I was laughed at,
By my Geology teacher.

I can’t quite grasp
A universe without opposites.
Nirvana? Utopia? Gor? Pern?
Oh, Pern! I flew you in my youth!
I was the ‘Spaceship Who Sang’! Was
All I read of other whens, except mine.
And, why not? Who can belie the wish
To be magical, or a hero, or princess?
Who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?

Love? It’s in the catalog of life,
But isn’t always purchased, or worshipped
To all of the All, in the End. Why not? Ah,
Let me count the ways… I don’t have to, though,
We all have our tallies of life lived. Period.

I could imagine giving up some pride
For a scrap of bread, if I was starving, which I
Have, once, in such a nonexistent way, it means
Nothing. I didn’t have to give up my body,
Or my head, it was more others expectancies,
Which I see, have stringently turned into
Screams of pasts… Nothing lasts.
Nothing, therefore I must be Time.
Whew, finally, I see Time baldly...

Ha! You think? The opposite
Of Nothing is Something.

Therefore, Time is Everything…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 2/11/06