The last Poetry Bus of 2010 leaves from Revolutionary Revelry - tickets available from Jeanne.
Lacking that essential messianic drive, I'll pass on the mighty task of leading battered old humanity up the hill towards a state of higher consciousness.
But I'm up for a bit of self-salvation so in 2011 I'll be trailing good old Sisyphus up that very same hill. Hope will be the next stage in my evolution.
Sitting traffic-jammed in rain,
the wipers’ all-effacing hand dogged
in the instant by another spray
of limpet drops, which are in turn
effaced in a monotony of stubborn purpose.
Sisyphus at work in the clouds, his engine,
hope against all reasonable expectation.
I’m his pupil sitting here, learning with
each whimpered sweep of the blades
about the senselessness that drives us,
each and every one, towards that all-effacing
clap of laughter just before the end.
Happy New Year, chums!