The sirens are singing
as the wax melts
in the rising heat.
Our cadence falters.
Numb to all seductions,
let androids man the oars,
while we stride behind
the hearse of common sense.
Even Aldous would be shocked.
Last-minute cruise deals
bound for lotus-land.
All-you-can-eat crises,
spectacles and simulacra,
constant candlelight vigils,
Polly-want-a-cracker politics.
Oh for the days of Denver's
bright Calypso.
One small step.
A grateful whale.
Like an injured Polyphemus,
armed with GPS,
we grope along the walls,
searching for a way out,
and wonder
how long Penelope can hold on.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
30 August 2026
