Too Much Architecture for Nothing

Peculiar projectors, thoughts.

Sink a body in a tank

Filled with saline solution,

Body-temperatured, dark,

And almost utterly still—

Then, oh, the places you’ll go!

Imagine an empty set,

Hypodermic of nothing.

It will prove analogous

To other concepts of sets,

Which must be things in themselves,

With or without things in them,

And so cannot be empty

Other than on the inside,

Confined within curly walls.

Think of what you call white space,

And immediately mind

Is moving around in it,

A buyer imagining

All the possibilities,

An architect designing

Angles between the blank lines.

There’s no nothing without you

Somehow turning up in it.