LOUIS PIRRO
the  D A G O S P H E R E
          o t h e r   p o e m s
&
1 9 9 7  -  2 0 0 1
(c) copyright Louis Pirro, 1997 - 2001
( page 3 )
DAYDREAM

My father fainted in
the red galley kitchen.
My mother, on seeing this,
promptly passed out too...

there they lie,
heaped together,
in the afternoon...

I see it still,
as stark as any
old Greek play.
BEFORE RAPPORT

We strive to make
emptiness
value-added
and advance clarity
empty yet radient
to the next level
like an old TV
so dusty
we never knew
it was color
these abscences
haunt us
regretfully
so beware
van gogh's whore
stooped in corners
of crazed hearts
atop mountains
and rarified environs
stumbling & flirting
with insanity
inside
the brave room
we leave open
for it all
to happen
THE DIONYSIS PROBE

the Myths
are aged
and covered with
a baroque shroud
& while they were
sleeping
Or dead
It came
Slashing
Cutting
wine-red innards
Spilling
in the dark
LIKE FIELDS IN WINTER

Even Jesus wasn't accepted in Galilee.
Though he didn't use a Visa...
Citibank credit is my alms now-
while the Saints die of cancer...
400 years ago in a monestary,
I'd be a doctor of the Church...
Or I'd take up painting.
Today, I'm marginalized & handicapped...
Labeled the misfit & outsider.
Personal development & Self actualization-
this is what the world truly despises...
though you wouldn't know it
by the way they encourage it
with empty gestures
and demands of Proof
-Or the words of God
sown to empty pews
like fields in winter.
STRANGER

Though 35,
I'm perennially adolescent-
a fixated, troubled teen.
I like Star Wars...
I paint houses...
I don't own a thing.
With no car
I must walk everywhere,
stumbling,
looking young and irresponsible,
like a stranger in the streets...
& even in my own body.
THE SUBURBAN HERMIT

No trauma put me here-
it was voluntary-
but I am a hermit at heart
and it is harder to be that today-
trying to find your place in the world-
outside of it all.

The deserts have become
too expensive-
so I'm in the suburbs now-
in hiding,
in Idaho,
right under your nose-
in disguise.

My hair is short-
I appear to fit in
as a student,
or artist,
or something in between...

But I'm here
nevertheless,
mocking the world
-which no longer needs me-
from the inside now.

? IN THE DIRTY MIRROR

is God a flake
because he's put me in charge
in a world full of holy relics
with the mirror of men
being art and religion
created in his reflection
with a bright light behind
so we become maybe Shinto
or at the very least- Narcissus
in lieu of anything else 
THE DEAD STAG

It may be every man's fate
to be behind the times
to  be the buffoon
or the oaf
that dies alone
like the dead stag
who without sharp horns
finds they are long enough still
to tangle him in the woods.
B A C K