IMPERFECT POEM I have nothing to say to you now and nowhere to go to say it I say nothing to you in my living room and it's not right so I stand on the porch and say nothing but the cows are there listening so it doesn't seem like nothing so I drive to town and walk down Kirkwood saying nothing and it all feels wrong and I'm out of place out of any place to walk or stand or sit or lie down in peace and it's like a death or the loss of some essential organ without which I don't see or hear and I can't feel my legs and therefore I don't believe in the ground which leaves me floating legless headless bodiless anywhere everywhere this must be what it's like to exist in a world of no objects only ideas that cannot be altered the Platonic Heaven goddamn you Plato you know nothing about what it takes to be in my life and be happy it takes real flawed objects and people who can be taken to represent nothing higher or better or more perfect than themselves