Jeff Klooger
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Jeff Klooger’s interests include poetry, music and philosophy.
His work has been published in a number of Australian literary
journals over the years, most recently in Famous Reporter,
Eureka Street, Retort, Dotlit, Social Alternatives and Cordite
Poetry Review. He has a PhD in social theory and philosophy
from La Trobe University in Melbourne, Australia.
His work has been published in a number of Australian literary
journals over the years, most recently in Famous Reporter,
Eureka Street, Retort, Dotlit, Social Alternatives and Cordite
Poetry Review. He has a PhD in social theory and philosophy
from La Trobe University in Melbourne, Australia.
Credulity
the gods – none of whom
are real − play games with me
for sport send evidence supporting
views I don’t accept, tempting me away
from the sceptical truth
lately it’s synchronicity
that idea propounded by psychologist Carl Jung
according to which things of similar meaning
cluster in space and time
nonsense, of course
but nonsense or no, it happens to me
all the time
for instance
one afternoon I discover a magazine called
Philosophy Now in a local shop
that’s interesting, I think
that night, browsing poetry websites
I come across a poem by someone I once knew
the poem is called Philosophy Now
and in the poem the poet talks about
a magazine called Philosophy Now
the same magazine I had discovered that very day
I know: it’s banal
but palpable, like the case of
the ice-cream wrapper
I’m walking to a bus stop thinking
about buying an ice-cream
on my way home
a Macadamia Weiss Bar is what I want
I decide: delicious – I’ve had them before
then at the bus stop, what discarded
ice-cream wrapper should I find
at my feet – yes, indeed
you see what I mean
it’s enough to make a weaker mind
believe our universe is organized
by invisible patterns of meaning
this is what people used to believe
that meaning was at the heart of all things
that the world was arranged not according
to blind and senseless laws
but in accord with the meaning
of things themselves
so the sun revolved around the Earth
because the Earth was the centre
of God’s concern
and apples fell to the ground
for the same reason
not because gravity declares
that all bodies attract
or, to put it the other way round
if gravity means all bodies attract
then that must be
because it has to be
for the Earth to be the centre
of all things
everything happens for a reason
some people say
everything has its meaning
an ugly philosophy
cruel as well as stupid
according to which
those who suffer are victims
of their own flaws
and mountains crush villages
so survivors can learn
the value of the life
they no longer share
with the dead
I’d rather a meaningless world
it’s colder but cleaner
unpolluted
by motive and merit
but such faith is tested sometimes
by real events
and the minds that make them
the gods who will not let men be
but trick and try us
as they may
scattering useless miracles
at credulous feet.
A Serious Case
My jowls ache. Acupuncture
has made my life unbearable, and holistic medicine
gives me the shits, so I decide to consult a specialist. He tells me
my new way of crying
silently, without fuss or danger to passers-by,
is killing me. My jowls are only the beginning, he says.
Soon my eyebrows will cease to function, my tongue
will adhere to the roof of my mouth,
I will develop a fixed and futile stare. Eventually
my brain will seize up completely, and serious complications
will set in. I may forget the number
of my electronic bank account, and have difficulty
paying bills. People will mistake me for an intellectual,
I will no longer be invited to dinner parties, and my friends
will ask me to explain the mysteries
of deconstruction, postmodern art
and quantum mechanics. “This could seriously impede my growth
and well-being as a person!” I exclaim. “Is there nothing
medical science can do?” He frowns. “Contriving to relieve a man
of his misery is a tricky business, requiring
a steady hand, the soothsayer’s unfaltering brow, and a deep belief
in the cutting edge. Do you have
private medical insurance? Yes? Then
I have the cure!” We embrace. Our faith in Mankind is restored.
He writes me a prescription and, two days later, dies.
At the funeral, his friends all say
“We didn’t even know he was sick.”