A Preface

time traces slowly

across the wooden floor

shadows of life, tracks of its passing

vanishing both, both

as electric light

overcomes

the shots, the pills, the daily

machinery churning out grades,

counting pulses, counting beats,

counting tomorrows…

the body sloppily fails, slumps into

the urging yield of the recliner

the mind wanders, falls into

fantasy, and opens an eye

is it the meds? is it… more?

sleep hushes the questions, starts

the picture show.

just beyond

the range of clarity

a man leans on a blood-stained rock

and ponders the mountain

again, again

he looks up, and nods in recognition…

the picture show goes on.

Scene 1

The dark one peers into the washbasin,

Imagines the universe in the

Wastewater and drek of the

Last meal’s entrails

The dark one braces a stocky easel,

Carves the canvas with impasto ridges,

Buck-toothed knife flashing across earthy

Colors mixed with coal dust.

Then, the dark one paints:

Swirling, looping in

Ever-tightening circles around

The inevitable, irresistible drain…

Thickened by the flotsam,

Clinging to the surge.

only the arc varies,

one day climbing,

climbing up the slope

reaching for the lip, the edge

illuminated by the unseen…

then momentum fades,

the weight of height,

the pull of deep

…irresistible.

next day diving,

gyrating towards the

gaping blackness of the hole

Careening recklessly across the rings

Cascading downward,

endward,

out.

“the graceful loops are chimeras”

growls the dark,

“cheats and teases,

pimping their lies

to infinite rubes…

the dives are

prison breaks toward

an unknown,

unknowable

freedom”

I call out to the old man at the mountain’s base…

“…Sisyphus, how I envy you…

your rock rolls back to its home

waits patiently for your hands, waits

for you to grapple it up, up again

you have no need to fear the leaving

you have no worse to dread

you know your future

you know where

you will be

tomorrow…”

Scene 2

the light one enters, sits

on the edge of the sink, imagines

the universe in the morning sunlight

streaming through blindless windows.

the light one opens the case,

removes the fiddle, traces the bow

across quivering nylon strings, fingering

gold clad frets, a lover’s breathless

eager touch

then, the light one sings:

flowing, borderless,

filling the room with clarity,

patternless, irresistible

and pure…

the color of warm

blanketing the cool room

everything is newborn

unseen breath

lifts particles to dance

momentary aureoles embracing

the prosaic dust, sanctifying refuse

into shimmers of gold

blessed alchemy

sparkling dust settles

gleam dulled by shadows

scattered and still on the silent floor

a tightening chill creeping

covers everything

like apathy

“The halos are truth”

brags the light…

“life to non-life,

breath to stillness,

songs to the deaf…

the dance is their awakening

the bursting of the chrysalis

harbingers of grace.”

I cry out once more, across the void..

“…Sisyphus, how I envy you…

gifted with forever to know your rock

To feel your mountain beneath your feet

you know the rock will never leave,

the mountain will never fall away

you know your future

you know where

you will be

tomorrow…”

Scene 3

I settle deep

into fading brown leather,

reckon with the mocking gravity

and weigh the pull of the dark and the light…

fumbling with the dusty calculator

staccato clicking, tabulations of debts

estimations of my life’s assets and liabilities

ledger arguing with soul for relevancy

our daughter enters, kisses my cheek

places my child’s child trustingly into

my scarred and weary arms

and warns me of his drool

then, the child laughs

light and dark swirl into meaninglessness

shards of perfect laughter clog the drain

the washbasin brims over with crystal water

the golden dust settles everywhere

on everything

he grabs my beard, pulls his face close to mine

eyes probing, probing long forgotten realms

mocking my self-pity, my petty dramas

the child strokes my soul, and Time

finds a good seat to watch

and stops…

no words

just coos and giggles,

random screeches, unintelligible,

irrefutable, timeless … truly

Irresistible

the dark one packs the easel,

the paint, the knife, and

leaves silently through the back door.

the light one takes careful notes, acknowledging

truth and life manifest and pure,

tries to copy the tune.

the child turns his attention

to the empty water bottle beside my chair

gasps at the sound of its crushing

Time chuckles moves along

as I recover my breath

Prologue

I clamber across the void, and put my hand on the old man’s shoulder…

“…Sisyphus, how I weep for your pain…

never to be surprised by your own overwhelming love

the unpredicted eternity of a moment

placed softly in your lap…

sadly, sadly

you know your future

you know where

you will be

tomorrow…”

Hollow eyes raise up,

meet mine… a confirming nod,

then a sigh rises from the deepest ache

as the aged one wordlessly pushes his rock up, up…

away from me,

into his dark.