WEBVTT

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There often grows, I think,
out of Zach's work,

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a very real sense of
desolation and sometimes it's

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shifted away by playfulness,
or wit, or whimsy.

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And sometimes it's not shifted
away and becomes very stark.

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This is one that tends to
reside in that darkness.

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That's a poem called "Nothing."

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Nothing comes.

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The night wind carries its load
of darkness like the night wind

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carrying its load of darkness.

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Nothing comes, nothing comes.

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The door that was closed,
opened, closed, opened.

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Nothing comes, nothing comes.

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Legs crossed, lamp on the
table, shadow and an undershirt,

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he who entered, is he who left.

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Nothing comes.

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