THEATRE OF THE ABSURD
(for Kevin)

Dear Mr. Barnum:

Please excuse Sisyphus. He is temporarily unable to fulfill his contractual obligations. I fear he is quite unwell.....

Sneering demons who'd look on and laugh,
Simpering imps who'd pat him on the back,
Half-hearted roars--tepid applause
Well-meaning patrons moved only by flaws---
Sisyphus phoned in sick.

Tired of the nothing--tents up tents down,
The sadness of peg-holes left in the ground,
A ton-and-a-half of elephant shit
High expectations--always unmet---
Sisyphus phoned in sick.

Haiku on Bruegel's Eyes

The fisherman on

the pier wouldn't have dreamed of

gazing at the sun

while the ploughman sat

for lunch and longed for golden

days...no one looked up.

Pursuing life, none

saw Icarus fall, none grasped

the true weight of death.

All approached life with

a base mundanity that

belied its meaning.

(Thank you Dennis.)

Nietszche Loses his Mind

Portrait of Sisyphus

in his personal hell;

does he lie back

and die in the fire?

does he sweatstrugglehope

pushthestoneupthehill

Sisyphus opts for

absurdity---

what better answer

to a world without god?

(Image: Frank Williams, Sisyphus)

I've begun a study of Greek, and along with my readings in Ovid, this makes for some very strange dreams.


Conventional
(for Kristen)

Last night I dreamed
An all-girl bouzouki band
Came to my house…
They didn’t actually play the bouzouki
They stood at the end of my hall
and sang
The conductor was
Plato and
Demeter played diva
The chorus was sublime
I wanted to sing along
But in the end
I found their skirts
Entirely too short.


(apologies for the inside comment: But somehow I'm reminded of the genius we once knew who was impressed by the fact that his musical idol had never taken a lesson....I,IV,V7 HIKE!)

MICRO/
MACRO:
Life as an Ant










Who wept first,
Niobe or Job?
Same story/different boats/
drifters on a
river of time;
not much to do
when the gods call the shots.
One day they're angry,
next day they're bored;
Lassitude creeps in--
the urge to toss the dice...

Men cry for justice
(as if we ever gave a thought
to the families
of the ants we squash)
Men question/shed tears/
dress themselves in pity/turn to prayer.
The immortals shrug and walk away
--- better things to do---
Eternity looms large,
even in the mind of a god.

Image ~ Oldřich Kulhánek /Job/ lithograph2002

Niobe on the deaths of her children

I wear my sorrow as a favored old coat --
wrapped tightly around me
affording protection from the foolish hopes

of an unconsoled heart.

I hold my grief hostage --
a relentless reminder

of dreams that have died
and of the contrarity of fate.

Gods crumble, nations fall;
I put my trust
in the strength of the desolate womb,
and in an emptiness unfilled
by an ocean of tears.

Closing Pandora's Box

Oh, to be like LouLou--

Tragic combination

of innocence

and allure,

Everyman's dream,

the MadonnaWhore.

Every man--

but not Jack.

He knew the drill--

The good girl

bad girl shuffle--

Jack definitely knew the drill

and it didn't include

tacky vaudeville shows

or shabby cabaret.

A girl can dream

of dancing shoes,

but best not open the box.

Walking the wire

night after night,

in search of an image--

a long lost battle

for self and soul,

Life was killer--

until Jack.