Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘My Emptiness States Its Purpose’

It’s 3 a.m. Do you know where your mind is wandering?

 by Larry Brody


From time to time – well, okay, constantly – I engage in what I believe is a kind of self-analysis common to writers. In my case, it invariably goes like this:

My Emptiness States Its Purpose

So what’s this search all about?

What’s the point?

Do I seek truth? Beauty? Love? Life?

Is it a hunt for reality? For self?

And where do I look? Where do I go to find

What I need?

Am I in control? Or driven by demons? Compulsions?


Is it the end that’s important, the solution, the

Attainment of the goal? Or is it the search

That everything is about? Am I blessed to

Hunt forever, or damned?

I tire, I know that. I tire of the restlessness,

The constant prodding, the emptiness within my

Soul. If I long for anything, it’s for an end,

For a chance to accept whatever is,

A chance to be.

A search for the end of searching?

Too simple.

Too paradoxical.

Ironic in the extreme.

Another word game between my spirit

And my heart.

An end to this sport!

If victory is out of the question,

Attainment an impossibility,

Then all that’s left is relief.

Feel it, see what happens. Say it:

“I want relief,

An easing of this restlessness,

The loss of this urge.

I want to stop dreaming.”

I lie.



Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.