Herewith, the latest selection from dusted-off published poetry and short fiction, circa 1970s vintage and beyond....
There Is No Soul
While a score of angels
danced a galliard
on the head of a pin
Frederick II of Prussia
priding himself on
intelligent pratmatism
Indulged in experimentation;
the progenitor of a
brave new creed -
science become a prerogative
of state.
He ordered a man to be
sealed in a jar - somewhat
like a thousand-year egg
though he knew he wouldn't
have to wait the millennium
for ripeness.
Unsealing the jar after the
appropriate deathtime
he gazed in fond wonder
at the remains, and scrubbing
around in there, dantily
picked at the bones.
Nowhere, he exulted, was there
sign of the ineffable! Not
to be seen was that
ephemeral thing
known as the soul and he
scribbed in his neat script
"There is no soul!"
much pre-dating Nietzshe who
would later paraphrase him.
The angels whirled and laughed
in their dancing madness.
c. 1979 Rita Rosenfeld
Published in the initial issue of Fifth Sun
No comments:
Post a Comment