the world spinning and hurtling through space
like a big blue streak, a colorful cold comet; the
world in all its wet wonders and glimpses of life
itches for meaning. And like a poisonous itch that
is scratched at until it bleeds, there is no relief
for the itch of meaning. Meaninglessness of Meaning-
lessness; Vanities of Vanities, all is meaningless
vanity. Words the preacher spoke with a fevered tear.
Meaning it's said is lost in structure and context
and meaningfully lies in the grown eye of the beholder.
The eye of Elmo glue pasted letters and cut words
blown apart like a dandelion in the wind with
meaning reaching out in horror to clasp onto another
meme, another lexeme or mytheme to rearrange itself
from that horror that is Dante's 3rd circle of hell.
Meaning vibrates inside the nucleus of the hemoglobin.
Crying out for attention meaning screams with no sound
like an explosion in the dark matter of space. If
there is a listener who can't hear does meaning lose?
Meaning vibrates off the E-string of the acoustic guitar.
Hiding inside the duality of light, spreading its wings
in broad waves and penetrating each dissenter with particular
precision meaning surprises the scientist in the white
blue-stained lab with its unsolicited itch, the scabbed
itch scientists have doused with various itch-relief
formulas of relativity and deconstructed uncertainty.
Gödel and Derrida are unlikely bed mates on the
path to incompleteness. Tapping on our souls like
Chinese water torture these drippings, these continuous
disconnected drippings of splattered meaning resonate
like a tuning fork to our own miserable incompleteness.
Vanities of vanities we try to attach meaning to
our wandering ghoulish lives like prisoners in the
muddy prison yard. We touch ourselves incomplete.
We children of God wander the night like runaways
ignoring the hand of broken experience slapping a
random pastiche of experiences together to form a
broken world of rationalized meaning. Vanity of Vanities!