Nothing else

October 16, 2011


This poem reads like a Clint Eastwood western. A kind of apocalyptic tale. I’ve always loved westerns. Especially John Ford’s. My Darling Clementine is my favourite. Its like watching a Greek tragedy. (I’m not sure what that means except it sounds important.) The fear of retribution is inside all of us. We believe deep down that the universe has to be fair. It isn’t. (The Greeks knew that.) The great horror at the heart of the human soul is that the universe just is. There is nothing else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOUR RIDERS

 

four riders dressed in white

came into our town late last night.

They had all no good looks

all looked mean

they did things to the darkness

no man has ever seen.

 

When they left

only their huff marks could be seen in the mud

and the deputy sheriff who was buried with a slug.

 

Nothing more was revealed

except

the sheriff’s son said he heard them speak

when he was hiding inside a chest

that the next time they returned

nothing would be left.

 

2 Responses to “Nothing else”

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