I have no senses
that can take it in
or read it in the air
or prove it to myself.
I have no name
I can use to name it.
It's invisible,
but when I look,
I see it.
It's silent,
but when I listen,
I hear it.
How can emptiness
remain so full?
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Zen Hiccup
Who can think once dead?
Or feel how it’s easy to
Decompose after?
Perhaps what is not
Here maters as much as what
Is. Clap hands and joke.
[Disposable Haiku September 6, 2013]
Dr. Mike
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