Thou It Is Empty It Is Full Poem by Antonio Liao

empty hands clap so deeply, as a full hand can’t
never produce a single fun and while the mouth is full,
It can never say a simple call, got to be easy to tell
but hard to feel

come my hardliner of thought, digest of what
laughter shows, even in the greatest shot, the
whole grain squeeze to puff, what more than a simple
voice empty handed clings to pump

trail as always it goes in every full thought begins
and end for a cause, the dried land pose for a springs
for things gone will always come back again to dance
in a little pebble the sand runs