Hmmmm. "rusty wordparts". I think I could work with that. I can see it
now....
- Peter C.
On 9/17/07, Judy Prince <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> Interp of the Myth of Sisyphus for Poetryetc
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> Note: I wanted to write a poem about anything but this myth, but the muse
> wouldn't move.
>
> The Myth of Sisyphus was originally written by God in Greek, after which
> other languages got in the way before it came to us in English. Many people
> have translated (which means "put in their own thoughts") the myth such as
> Didacterus, Moll Strumpet and Shaksp the actor as well as Shake-speare the
> writer who doesn't exist. I'll just, to save time, summarize the myth even
> though I've never read it: Sisyphus rolls a +really big+ rock up a hill, it
> rolls down and so on and so on until S gets exhausted, slips, and gets
> squashed by the rock. Other people, though, would variously interpret the
> myth, such as the following Poetryetc members:
>
> Halvard Johnson has already put S.I.S.Y.P.H.U.S. on a word dartboard for
> future sonnets.
>
> Bob Marcacci snaps the rock.
>
> Anny Ballardini writes something about Italy that nobody understands.
>
> Patrick McManus created a skinny poem ending with VB lifting the rock off
> his cat dish.
>
> Sharon Brogan, overcome by smoke and wars, falls down (gracefully) while
> worrying about her unmade bed.
>
> Mark Weiss is in the barrio and can't be bothered.
>
> Kasper Salonen, between poetry-sneezes, notes the errors in S's operandi.
>
> Candice Ward conflates everything with everything (mostly in really old
> English).
>
> Robin Hamilton obfuscates in Celtic, Romani and Haggis, with the
> occasional lift of a URL---and is understood only by Dominus Fox and the
> Walker brothers, Martin and Christopher.
>
> Joanna Boulter, obsessed with the shape of the rock, is writing a toccata
> on the evolution of mushrooms.
>
> Roger Collett mutters "Forget the rock," and gets down to something
> useful.
>
> Roger Day (not to be confused by Roger Collett who IS Roger Day during the
> day) leaves another town to get another degree.
>
> Judy Prince thinks that S has a persistent problem with his balls.
>
> The rock now sits, tastefully decorated, in Peter Cudmore's music room.
>
> Peter (I'm not even going to get into that whole "two Peters" thing)
> Cicciarello visualizes the rock in a canal of rusty wordparts.
>
> Doug Barbour encourages S on each ascent and every time the damned rock
> starts to fall downhill.
>
> Ken Wolman thinks that S is (a) his father, or (b) a deceased opera
> singer.
>
> Jon Corelis is still scribbling words on a cocktail napkin in a Greek
> restaurant in Oakland, CA.
>
> Douglas Clark must consult one of his cats.
>
> Andrew Burke has written four novels, umpteen plays, and eleveny-million
> poems (some about rock) everywhere but in his own neighbourhood.
>
> Tad Richards is building a rock house in the middle of his stepfather's
> installation (talk about Sisyphusian!).
>
> Stephen Vincent and Max Richards have put the rock on level ground and
> taken it for a walk.
>
> Joe Green has dumped the rock into a Haleakala crater.
>
> Fred Pollack thinks he's Sisyphus.
>
> Joe Duemer has fled the country (ok, whatever country) with our archives.
>
> David Bircumshaw is God and now writes in Latin rather than Greek.
>
> ---
> jbprince
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--
Image - http://invisiblenotes.blogspot.com/
Word - http://poemsfromprovidence.blogspot.com/
Photography - http://uncommonvision.blogspot.com/
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