I always walk with one eye closed
to shield my eyes from the glare
and to remind myself that I am only half-here,
and only provisionally, at that.
I think I am
dead dead dead dead dead.
But of course I am not.
I am is a state of being.
I think therefore I am.
But Descartes is little comfort
when you wake up dead.
How silly it is to say that.
People wonder:
What is it like to be dead?
To not-be is boring: intense bright in utter darkness.
A loud, insistent, invariable hum.
The Indian-head test pattern at the end of the broadcast day.
For eternity, even beyond the heat-death of the universe.
There are the laws of physics and then there is contingency.
In the world we inhabit, It is contingency that matters.
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