The Sky On Repeat

I don't really read poetry; this is an understatement. I don't read poetry, which is odd, because its the sum total of my literary output these days. So where is this inspiration to pen weird little unrhymed verses coming from?- couldn't say, but I have a guess.

I listen to this kind of nonsense on repeat while I drive to places like Seattle and Leavenworth and Utah.

And then I write something like this.

Firmament

And all the world is metallic and ticking and lit,

Lit when god intended darkness

- June 2009

There above us burns eternal the great map–

All the creatures of the earth and their lives empaneled,

(Deer and hare and dove and groundvole)

Dancing forever that vast turning cirque.

This was our guide,

By its mazes we steered our ships and raised up our towers

And every night we gazed through its windows and beheld the universe.

From those lines in the ensconcing hands of god must our futures have been determined,

For only in his palms was there any surety,

Any wheel returning to the same,

(Riding over mountains beyond mountains…)

Any firmament beneath our feet.

Was there ever such a map and was there ever such a time?

Could we see a path before us any clearer before we lit the night?

It is a marvelous symbol, yes,

Of how I feel I have lost my way,

A lovely consolation that we have sullied some primordial world,

And a ringing cry of helplessness before

The pathless, and the untrodden;

For the wheel loses a piece of itself with every revolution

(You cannot step twice into the same stream)

And all history may be written in such mazes,

But for the doors, the maps, of night

We have no key.

I am not sure I see a connection. I may have posted those purely so I can listen to them without screwing up my iTunes play-count.