zerology

$10.00

I wrote a book of poetry a long time ago. It’s about the number zero, but it’s also not about the number zero at all. It’s not too long, and it works well as a curio for a dinner party. “What’s this,” your intrigued guest will ask. You then get to mutter about its obscurity and its extremely limited run of copies. It’s all a very good deal, if you ask me.

I wrote a book of poetry a long time ago. It’s about the number zero, but it’s also not about the number zero at all. It’s not too long, and it works well as a curio for a dinner party. “What’s this,” your intrigued guest will ask. You then get to mutter about its obscurity and its extremely limited run of copies. It’s all a very good deal, if you ask me.

I wrote this a very long time ago, in a much darker place than I am now.

I say that not to be like edgy or whatever, just to kind of warn you about what’s inside. The Hamilton who wrote this is not the Hamilton writing this right now. He was a little more hope-starved, a little less discerning about what to keep on the cutting room floor, quite a bit more naive and arrogant, all at the same time.

I feel about this book the way Stephen Crane felt in In The Desert:

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.

I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

It is bitter—bitter.

But I like it because it’s bitter, and because it’s my heart.