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JOIE DE VIVRE, JOIE DE MORT
JOIE DE VIVRE, JOIE DE MORT
The august clown makes us laugh as he is dying
On the inside; vintners make strong wine over the
Civil War battlefields next to carnival Ferris wheels.
There is always burst of paroxysm over tragedies.
Teenagers had to be removed from the premiere opening
Of Schindler’s List; old Jews didn’t think it was funny.
Thee is always the rising and setting sun of life; stars
Can not help but set in the West; the sun’s declination
Always predicts a Fall; such hastening makes grapes ripen
Three ring circuses and laughter is part of the abundance
That gives birth to death along with boysenberries, the first
Snow and the cyclic laughter of comedies and tragedies.
Some part of the human soul seems to recognize that some
Things cannot be saved even if Abraham returns; for this
The Jews have the Wailing Wall because tears are interred.
It’s not that humanity is perverse and heartless; it’s just that
So many of us are muddled and we believed in so many lies.
We do not want to look at the ego divorced from other’s pain
We are like hunters shooting ducks in the marshes. We shoot
At anything that flies bye and as any good sport we enjoy the
Merriment of death as much as the tumbling of clowns.
