Sisyphus
by Ed Higgins
He's more than a little pissed at all this eternal boulder rolling. But what-ta-hell-forever can he do about it? Duck fate? Never. Not that he wasn't with plenty sins enough to roar up Zeus against him. Oh, my. It's the given implacable, inescapable journey of all hubris-cursed life. Sometimes you're craftily high-than-up; other times you're Sisyphean damned down. As in Zeus-fucked eternally: redundantly boulder-shouldering up/up and then redundantly boulder-chased down/down. Again, again, and yet again.
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Author's Note
The prose poem is up at the lit zine First Class Literary Magazine (Apr, 11, 2016). The fun part about this zine is if your piece is accepted their shtick is to have you print out the piece on a 1st.-class postcard & send it in to be published along with the poem. If you want to see my really bad hand printing & a stick figure I drew with the poem you'll have to go to their website: https://firstclasslit.com/2016/04/11/sisyphus-by-ed-higgins/
Thinking he should've rolled the boulder onto whoever the asshole was that set him up with this eternal joke. I like the irreverence here. *
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Aye, rocks and hills and futility, but hey, you're in the history books. *
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The repetitions get us all in the end.