Into Nothing
A concession
less than you planned
is often framed at a glance
as better than
nothing,
as there is nothing less
than nothing.
As in an absence of sound
where a voice should be,
a musical measure
that halts
three beats
before the melody,
an expected reply
to a query of love
that is absent
unexpectedly.
Nothing is both
beginning and end
and it is often neither;
it is nowhere we want to be
and everywhere, inevitably;
a closed door left ajar;
no closure, just a far-off view
of horizon unchanging.
Nothing is not an answer we expect,
but often by not getting it
it’s the answer that we get.
Nothing is what she said
before leaving
after leaving I love you’s
scrawled in condensation
on our shared mirror
before evaporating
into nothing.
***
I know I said that I would be back to writing more frequently, but I wasn’t expecting to become addicted to the Hamilton musical on Disney+
Seriously guys, every waking hour has been spent watching Hamilton, obsessing over Hamilton, breaking down the amazingly dense lyrics to Hamilton, analyzing the musical motifs of Hamilton, watching YouTube videos of others who’ve been analyzing Hamilton, also watching reaction videos of Hamilton, learning the actual history of the real Alexander Hamilton, and well, you get the idea.
Truth be told, the Hamilton Era is the most entertaining of this global pandemic that has exposed my nation as a failed plague-state. It’s way better than the Tiger King Era, and it’s not even close. At-me at your own peril, but I promise, I have the receipts:
Anyway, yes, I’m still alive. Here’s a poem about nothing. Now I gotta get back to watching Hamilton. See you in a week or two.
Hephaestus’ Waste & Cosmic Rubble 
Haven’t seen Hamilton but these two videos have given me a good taste for it. When does it come out on DVD? Reading your poem and seeing your comments in the column to the right, let me offer condolences for what sounds like a breakup between you and your sweetheart.
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Thank you for your kind words. Erin and I are just fine. We’re both geeking-out on Hamilton. This poem is a work of fiction. The tweets are retweets from my friend and writing partner, Tre. They are also fiction.
I don’t know when or if the live musical will be released to DVD, but the soundtrack is available now on CD and electronically via Amazon Music, Spotify, and probably many other venues.
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Glad to hear the poem and retweets are fictional. I wonder if my library has a copy of the CD to borrow?
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Here’s an animatic version from YouTube. https://youtu.be/tJ4mxLVv8v8
And here’s the plain soundtrack:
(I’m not trying to corrupt or convert you, even though I’m totally lying.)
Note: I have cried the past nine consecutive days, so… you have that to look forward to. Feels good to be crying over fictionalized historical entertainment instead of… you know… our shared nightmare hellscape reality.
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Barry, thank you. You’ve totally corrupted me I will listen to them. Glad you are good crying rather than the other.
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If there is something in life to be addicted to right now to distract from the dumpster fire that is the current administration, then you can’t go wrong with Hamilton!! Enjoy it with your honey, guilt free!
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Thank you!
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