Blank by Dah

I am tired of the nonsense

of what does not matter.

This is how I have arrived

at not caring:

my heart, a jaded rock.

A slate-colored night

drapes my body with

the diction of damp leaves,

with the convenience of loneliness.

If I could

I would turn the World into folklore

and write a final page

because I’m weary of gods,

of satans,

of those who break the light.

Give me the intelligence

of emptiness

Let me begin each sentence

with nothing to say

Let me end each poem

as a blank page

© Dah


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