A Few Small Fry
After sixty five years
of hard thinking,
I believe nothing.
But, I have
some suspicions.
Allow me another
sixty five years,
and I may reach
some conclusions.
Blake’s poetic imagination
always leads the parade;
science and philosophy
fall in and march behind.
What if the universe
is only a delusion
of a schizophrenic god?
A cosmic dose of lithium,
might just solve everything.
Cats disdain Herr Schrödinger.
They know that all minds are one.
Physicists are blind mice to felines.
Over every eye
the darkness spreads.
Be sure to blink
before it’s too late.
Being a writer
is being a flâneur,
keeping a close eye
on the imagination
itself.
The shortest path to nowhere
is never to leave home.
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