"Isn't tyranny a kind of oblivion?"
texted a friend from out of town.
I don't know how to respond
or calm down and finish
my meditation on Zeno's paradox.
Split the distance ad infinitum and never get there;
Achilles shamed by the tortoise in the race.
So again, no oblivion;
the hand never comes close enough to slap.
The revelers at the carnival are never gone.
promotes “Radical Acceptance”
to lessen stress, allow peaceful sleep,
a rest from madness
“It is what it is” every time:
A fire, a manuscript rejected,
a smile turned to a frown
by a rude remark,
a nasty splinter
in the finger that types,
a buildup of gas—in company,
so be it, let it go,
but when the news shows his face
and the scope of his petulance,
his wrath, his indifference,
that radical acceptance
slips into complicity.
But away from the couch
and the calming therapist,
there’s Radical Resistance
gatherings for actions built on beliefs
as we shake our heads, stunned
but no longer amazed.
As a performer, he forgets the past
and fears the future.
He saves his act by the well-thought-out conditional,
too occupied to consider the present tense.
He ends each show with a deep bow
that collapses into a pratfall
as the animals do their dance,
a conga, while the snake lady uncoils.
He laments the brevity of each show,
when he shared his painted smile
and endless time
with an audience of laughter.
Barry Wallenstein is the author of 13 collections of poetry, the most recent being Playing in Overtime (2025) and Odd Men Out (and In) (2025). He has made 12 recordings of his poetry with jazz, the most recent being Lisbon Sunset (2018) and Lisbon Sunrise (2022). Barry is Emeritus Professor of Literature and Creative Writing at CUNY, editor at American Book Review and advisory editor for BigCityLit.
