So many profound and silly thought balloons
Floating around, their emptiness unrevealed
Until some random prick shows they concealed
Only the age-old gas that all buffoons
Emit, disguised in private metaphor.
As if one thing in all this world stood need
Of further mystifying, here’s more for you to read:
Figure out what I’ve said, then guess what for.
Think I’ll go walking with my dog today,
A new day for him – each twig, each blade of grass,
Each of the million smells that my deficient
Nostrils miss, reports the endless play
Of changes sifting through the hourglass,
The all for which all words are insufficient.
