CATHARSIS

catharsis
doesn’t happen
every day

the shock of witness
leaving us
dripping

for it was in truth
such a monstrously noble
horrific battle

the cheating gods
winning only
in the last
seconds

I WOULD HAVE ONCE THOUGHT

let an
ant come to
my memorial

let a
bee
fly in

let normal service
be resumed

my body not
littering the stage in
the final act

I would have once thought
gloriously

STORM

who brewed
this storm
with all its Shakespearean
atmospherics and
theatrics?

what witches seasoned this
thunder, made sure
the lightning forked beautifully

they may
have the appearance
of ancient sisters
but once
I beheld them
(and they me)
differently

OH, MERCUTIO

Oh, Mercutio,
is this a comedy or
a tragedy that we
are called upon
to participate it

for there is so much motley
riotous laughter and
yet such pained faces
as if
something tight
under the screw
seeking release

but that release
upon the air, proving
elemental, yet
insubstantial, a dissolving
into nothing, the
wind scattering molecules
infinitesimal in size,
smaller than
any image might conceive
of the chariot of
Queen Mab

and your laughter sounds
has grown
somewhat desperate, as if
each jest was found begrudged,
all mirth weighed,
found wanting

licensed by the great dark powers
that would control, but
might pay to see
setting the limit
to all
not forgetting
such levities.

IN THIS BUSINESS

You have to
be smooth
as silk or
cutting-edge
in this business

or both. I imagine
with Hamlet the vertigo
of the stage really got
to Shakespeare

that long tragic fall
from power, grace, down
onto the rocks at the
foot of Elsinore

where the waves crash louder
than tumultuous applause

Oh the stage is the world but
also an eye we have
opened to
let in the Universe

but tonight we
shall close it like a shutter
to mourn our young
Prince

whose words tease the truth
out of your philosophy

leaving it
dull, empty as Yorick’s skull
unable to add to
the resoundingly
beautiful tragedy.