13 December 2004


The best poem I've read all week, via Mark A. R. Kleiman.

Wile E. Coyote

Wile E. Coyote ---
western Daedalus or Icarus,
Prometheus or Tantalus unchained,
tortured less by the bird
than his own desire ---
has been edited
from his cartoon hell
of dry river beds,
boulders, and anvils,
treacherous hand-grenades
and fickle physical laws,
into a worse purgatory,
(not spared the mid-air
that he has run too far,
the shock that the Sisyphean stone
is rolling back to him)
where he must fall,
pursued by half a cliff,
but never crash,
be crushed and crawl away,
impossibly alive and hungry
to try again,
by some who'd rather children read
of the slaughter of the Trojan War,
of Pyrrhus's words to Priam,
of Odysseus's hall spattered
with blood and the twitching
feet of his sluttish servants
hanged like doves in the garden.

That's right. We have to get our kids off this junk pop culture, and back to reading wholesome classics like The Odyssey, Shakespeare, and the Bible.

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