POEM FOR THE END OF 2012

The theologian drinking cosmos
     at the cocktail party said
the universe is really nothing 
     meaning it's mostly dark
matter, but something he said
     always comes from nothing 
and we know that there's no 
     such thing as nothingness,
that is, a constant state where
     nothing breeds nothing. The
proof, he said, is all around 
     us, we just can't see it
and even if we could we
     could not comprehend it, 
the concept itself -- just like
     the universe, he said --
is too abstract, like god, just
     because it's all nothing
doesn't mean we can't talk to it,
     feed it, pray to it, curse it,
damn it. After which the guests
     retreated to the pool and
poured themselves another drink
     and waded into the dark
of the pool and now naked stared
     up at the sky to feel the moonlight
on their faces like a blessing
     and as their eyes adjusted 
to the night they lost themselves 
     in galactic swirls, stardust
and retrograde planets swimming
     in the nothingness of 
nothing, they felt the dark matter
     all around them and the stones
in their heads stared in wonder
     and the theologian among 
them lay in the dew-wet grass
     weeping not for himself
or his soul or the souls of 
     those of us naked and shivering
but for the loneliness he 
     felt now loosened by those
cosmos, the empty glasses 
     clinking all around him like 
the music from faraway spheres 
     and wind chimes tinkling 
in the warm galactic wind.