The man with nothing
sits on an empty street;
filled with more nothing
and nothing more.
A man with nearly nothing
sits under the nothing man,
as a cushion of flesh,
as a prayer.
The man with nothing;
now has nothing more,
nothing more
Less nothing.
A man with nearly something
almost salutes;
then sits behind the man
with less than nothing
who now has nearly less nothing.
The man with less than nothing,
chokes a merry tune
sounds of less nothing
and nothing more.
A man with nothing else,
yet crucifix in his throat,
lies still on nothing
in the gutter,
smiling to Jesus,
silent prayer, serves a pillow
for
the man with less than nothing
and nothing else.
Now nothing man smiles
teethless,
with less nothing than before
At the sight of all his-
friends.
As he waits for more nothing,
with a lead pipe, made
of nothing
And nothing more.
Daniel.E. Hemme
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem