unwraps paper
slow, slow
mutters maybes because
multitudes Must know
hunches in drab tones --
and the jaw's stretch
and the chew's stick
and the breeze on his freckled crown
shrinks his limbs in
huddled, hunkered, hardly
perhaps at 22, 23
one's ears awake --
this demeaning coda
sings insipid
"what's it all ab-OW-it? what's it all ab-OW-it?"
sotto voce mezzo forte
throbbing of the soul
beyond a #6, no onions,
small fry
This morning I was reading a Stanley Kubrik quote about the meaning of "2001." He said that "the very meaninglessness of life forces man to create his own meaning.... However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light." And I think that's very true. You and I may disagree about the origin and purpose of life, but I think we can agree that it's a marvelous thing that shouldn't be taken for granted. So what's it all about? Nothing. And everything. If that doesn't thrill and terrify a person, they're clearly not looking hard enough.
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