Homage
We pose, my friends and I, in the afternoons,
Flashing our copies of “L’Etre et le Neant”,
Brash-bright and volatile.
Like existential jackdaws chacking on the breeze,
Paying irreverent homage
To our all-time philosopher heroes.
Jean-Paul;
The awkward last stand of logic,
Dishevelled and dishwater yellow.
Søren;
The lonely grey-green of salt-marsh,
Harsh in the winter rain.
Franz;
The grey swirling of fog,
Disorientating - in a dismal place.
Freidrich;
The gravitational collapse of matter,
The perverse black flower of birth,
Howling against the irrational abyss.
And Albert;
The beautiful taut brown of healthy skin,
On naked Mediterranean bodies.
We play, my friends and I, in the afternoons,
Adventurous gash-kneed children,
Fallen high from thorny trees,
Paying homage to our philosopher heroes,
“Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux”
Cheerful in the gaze of god and rock.
