Don Quixote and Sisyphus
Tilt at the blades of the windmill
Pushing them through fetid mounds of shit
Competing with the dung beetles
For the honor of rolling the infinite dung balls
Up and down mountains and hills
For eternity
Their armor crusted with the frustration
Of the relentless push up endless hills
While Zeus hurls lightening at their lances
Help aloft in fruitless defiance
Of the wind