new poem: Arcus Clouds
arcus
clouds
I am wondering who made the eyes
and who produced the fine clockwork;
what physics were turned towards
alchemical devices, designs, and desires.
I impore memory, I ask for bunraku sent
to enact stories, bring to life symphonies
in silent motions and fake snow falling
upon toy-sized watchtowers, robots telling
about things philosophical, things human.
***
lead me to arcus clouds and rolls of tears
high within the eye-searched skies. we
are calling with horns of varied cartographies,
we are the stellar maps, the unimagined
furtures encompassed by unheard sounds.
what robots tell us, they say it softly, they
tell us mundane data to build grand ideas,
rocks of sulphur and rings around entire
worlds : with spider legs they touched the
unknown, carry that home, into your mind.
and the clockworks that continue the valid
weather-watch, the remote wayfinding, the
radio signals of LORAN-C, Chayka, some
far off thing that tells us of other places
and leads home or
something that went afar and tells of
no known land but some unknown Mars.
we build these, we set the sun, hard into
night in river-flow of nocturnal duty do
we go to the remote of the real and find
a similar language invented by Letellier, or
a VHF signal sent out only yesteryear.
-for Tyler Desjardins