by Sam Rasnake

“no thing, not any thing, not something,” Middle English, from Old English naþing, naðinc, from nan ‘not one’ (see none) + þing ‘thing’ (see thing). Meaning “insignificant thing” – Online Etymology“no thing, not any thing, not something,” Middle English, from Old English naþing, naðinc, from nan ‘not one’ (see none) + þing ‘thing’ (see thing). Meaning “insignificant thing”  – Online Etymology

Nothing happens No gains, no real setbacks
if you don’t count the sinus infection or cracked
tooth, but other than that, same as it ever was, or
so said David Byrne, and he was right The outer

reaches of there continue to slip away until one day
– not any day soon though – in the universal sense,
we’ll crash into Andromeda – another film for
Cronenberg if he’s still working then and all that

implies, since I’m sure he’s working even when he’s
not – we can’t see everything – but the crash will be
most unsettling to us and to Andromeda’s parents
who once again, because of beauty, will not be able

to withstand the destruction – but, in the meantime,
nothing happens, which certainly is something –
nothing but the slow crawl of what we say is living
and, of course, what we say is never what we mean

Sam Rasnake has published work in Wigleaf, The Drunken Boat, MiPOesias Companion, Southern Poetry Anthology, Bending Genres Anthology, and A Cluster of Lights. He has served as a judge for the Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Prize, University of California, Berkeley and is the author of Cinéma Vérité (A-Minor Press), and World within the World (Cyberwit).