From the end of the universe
my life’s so much less
than an eye blink
a fraction of an eyelash
gone before there’s
time to think
so what persists and
what collapses
what remains beyond
my little valley
my rutted revision
my weak rendition of Walden Pond
I’m trying hard to end
a habit of coding
foolish proclamation inverse
I’m thinking hard about
being taciturn
stoic and terse
but at the end
of the universe
it will all just seem absurd
to anything that’s left
if anything’s left
to be heard
what
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