Wild eyes on the road
this is my bread, my butter,
the wide open spaces; jam
deep in the ice caves
the new gods are astir
"release me" rumbles the lake
Ask the wind where
we are all going, ask Orion,
who marches west
See the tracks in the pure white snow
No one has been here before
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2 comments:
great contrasts.
the third stanza is my fave-- it reminds me of the shuyler jansen song the D-Rangers do-- ("Go tell it to the hurricaine, if you think she'll remember your name...").
and also i'm crazy 'bout Orion, so...
i'd bet that somebody has been there before you, though. prob'ly people have passed through there for many thousands of years since the last ice age--they just didn't leave a trace you can see/feel.
nevertheless, i remember having that same feeling tree planting, espeically when we were flown into places that had been logged by helicopter on the sides of nameless mountains.
i remember thinking: i might be the first, and last person, ever to set foot here. and these birds have never seen a human, and forty bajillion generations of their ancestors before them never saw a human.
it's a remarkable feeling.
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