Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Cradle Song

Cradle Song

L. Edgar Otto   April 10, 2013

We all beat our heads against a wall,
harvestman, Daddy Long-legs
Eight of them sensing the round cup
trapped in the bottom, endless circles
Trying to find a way out, a transcendence
a totality as we half exist
Thinking if the wall is real, so are dreams

We waste countless hours listening to
the music, our cradle songs, our parents
From infinity of futures and of pasts
deep into the transparency of now, our egg
Turn the gears and clockwork, astrolabes
seek proofs of hypotheses, turn the crank
Or the planets move themselves

Whistle melodies and nonsense in the dark
the shadow rose its necters empty, stark
Our duty to appease the wrath of vanished gods
to thank for machines of intervention, rise with them
Poetry the first of hymns as they vie for rank
chasing world uplifting turtles, falls off the edge of seas
Insist there's somewhere that the steeples point

The names drop, the water on the brain Pharaoh worships
the sun and floods to store the grain, cradle crops
An army playing cops to sack the city, glean its secrets
spare saints drawing with their fingers in the sand
Guard bridges, collect by toll gates, cracking riddles write
books to invade or defend the harem, conjure eunuchs
The Nanny-state bound feet goddess, false her breasts

Adam, David, Christ our hearts to heist by names of
that first Creator who coined the lyrics for His lyre
Lukewarm and indifference of the universe a myth
promises in rainbow spectra our sphere's end in fire
As we earthlings too paint beasts and heroes in the heavens
tales, how it started, afterglows, Love's distant twinkle toes
Ships at sea,storm fronts, standing into danger returns

Begin again this time around some carousel, but who knows
All could unfold again in mirrors, walls of her shadow rose?

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