Suis-je belle, ô nausée?
– Frank O’Hara
Now Nausicaa, she was something
to behold. And she’s been beheld
by the finest, including Odysseus.
Some people get started with white
sausage, pretzel and beer on Sunday.
That would be in Munich, most likely.
Modest I skips everything but
the pretzel. Could never do without.
But that Nausicaa I’ll have to follow
… if only to avoid the famous
Sunday nausea Kris Kristofferson
is on about on a different continent.
“I love the way you travel,” said
the one next to me, “I’ll never
be able to guess where fancy
takes you.” Let if be Fancy,
let it be Nausicaa, let it be
my urge to displace Nausea.
I’m sure the three have never
before met on Sunday morning,
let alone in a little poem of
uncertain roots kicked in gear
by that museal New Yorkean
dancer of things in space and time.
– Johannes Beilharz (© 2012)