by Larry Brody
NOTE FROM LB
Here’s a family memory. About God, of course. I mean, God’s family, isn’t he? Well, he was, once upon a time anyway, right?
‘Zarathustra Came Down From the Mountain’
Zarathustra came down from the mountain
Bearing the news that God was dead.
In my mind, I see him at the wheel of
A ‘55 Olds, like the one my uncle had,
Turquoise and white, chrome like lightning
On each side. Zarathustra, of course,
Being cool, drives a convertible, and in
The back seat, under the hot, Godless sun,
Are the two tablets of Moses, the originals
That he shattered when he saw what the
Israelites had done. Zarathustra’s news is
Impressive, but not nearly as hot as his style;
Shouting and ranting work every time.
I long for the days of proclamations,
Of declarations of beginnings and ends.
I long for the days of men going to mountains,
And finding the one great and true way.
I long for the days of my childhood,
In my uncle’s ‘55 Olds.
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Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.
