Sensibilities Poem by Fred Babbin

SENSIBILITIES

The big pastel green plastic sheet
that covers everything
while I go through the invisible fog
of madness on the way to
Onthewayto, the other magical emerald city
that Dorothy never went to
and I will live there on the green sheet
with nothing, with nothing,
with nothing and breathe
without knowing who I am
or what I was,
for that was nothing

I give you my mind
take my brain
put it in the closet
and save it for the wonderment
of what?
and talk to me, talk to me, TALK TO ME
of the mysteries I can't know
when I wake in the morning
and sleep - at night
and the leak of life and it's stink
while I breathe

I listen to the sound of nothing
which is everything because
nothing is everything
so I sit and think of nothing
because I have that sickness
of doing - nothing although
I am doing - but not everything