A Show

A Show

Sisyphus climbed on his rock

to listen. The Furies wept.


Blest we thought: archangelic aglitter

so much the jewel

And he as really alone: the cynosure           the really

central gleam       a star upon a stage

So we      that throng

titillated by such ecstasies of sound

the peripatetic rise

the hesitant    organic diminution      notes

as natural as breaking waves

inhalations like an exotic perfume.

And we poor over-sensitized cows we are

danced and clapped and swooned

flapped our hairy heads off in glee

glad glad glad to be the recipients of such a joy.    Oh.

Blest we thought

We closed our eyes

Never saw the serpent

that ate his soul

Never knew the journey

he must daily take

into that Tantalus of hell.