the futility of good intentions

like a woodpecker
slamming my face 
against an oak tree

like a rooster
waking up screaming

creating a Sisyphean circle
that implies the fruitless
persistence of eternal return:

we are bound to live and die again,
love and lose again,
wake and either smash our head in
or scream our head off
or both...

but we must
never give up
on good work.