Zero and the One


The affair was over before it began.
The quick intentions of love faltered.
As though black and bruised like a dog he ran.
The world once legible was now altered.

And he too once predictable was changed
By that inner voice that no longer prayed,
Choosing a quiet hill where life rearranged
The red berries but ladies never stayed.

He sang, O Lonesome me
Carve me into a tree
In this liberated time
I can't even make a dime
Zero and the one
Always turn to the sun

At fifty the soul and body turn hefty.
And the hoarse untrained voice begins to growl.
I care. I care. I'm good, tall and healthy.
I'm happy when the wind begins to howl.

Zero sounds like Nero, a good pet name.
One is alone but it's there nonetheless,
If unity in wholeness is the aim,
Zero is the one, being and nothingness.
 
 

Bevagna 13 2 2011