Wednesday, November 9, 2016

I wrestled hard for many years

"The Grey Thinker" © 2016 David Prashker
To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

I wrestled hard for many years
I cried into my pillow night after so many nights
     that at last I perfected crying as an art-form
          and my voice left its stain upon the silence
I went down on my knees
     unsure whether to pray or beg or grovel
I found myself doubled over
     but could not tell the laughter from the pain
I lingered in numerous bars and cafés
     warming the backs of innumerable stone benches
I skimmed the scant cream
     salivating copiously
I compiled the n-dimensional novel
I rewrote Don Quixote for the twentieth century
I devoted endless years of travelling
     to forgetting everything I had learned with my head
I composed a thesis on the problem of originality
     borrowing phrase by phrase from other works
          yet still managed to produce something
                    uniquely original
I rewrote History to suit my own interests
I developed propaganda as an existential art-form
I became a novice in Shangri-La
I held the sand suspended in the hourglass
     for a full fifty-seven minutes
I headed for the cemetery
     and listened to the conversations of those youths
          who rape the corpses of beautiful women
I constructed the Tower of Babel
     then dismantled it
          preferring the confusion
I repented my error of judging my fellow-men
I built a skeleton
     adding parts to it
          naming them individually:
     this the broken heart
          this the flaccid penis
               this the befuddled brain
I disproved the ultimate paradox
I almost achieved the Immaculate Failure
I managed to go on compiling lists

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Copyright © 2016 David Prashker
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The Argaman Press

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