Far out from the street lamps and Arby’s signs,
on beyond gravel, mud, bent red locked fence,
a telescope reads braille, celestial lines,
of life split scattered milky stories, past tense.
Crunched up cans stack, smoke curls, creating lore,
a history of stars and human place.
The sky held once scant nothing, metaphor,
where meaning takes on human form and face.
But now the void is scattered satellite,
the data spins from our slick metal pods.
We use this tool to stream our Spotify,
to cheer as mantis battles anthropods.
Eyes once trained toward skies of pupil gray,
at screens rare blink, as kittens roll and play.
Input of dullness dense, such neural slay,
as heads turn down to monitor display.
We fall for bright like moths to street lamp frauds,
forgetting how to stare with awe glazed eye,
at stars so clear, our tongues can twist to gods,
bones bound tight to those we in-group ally.
The metal bits, our tiny moons in space
our crowning jewels, sent up from spit and ore.
Slick settlement of sky, cold war first place,
with just reward the dick pics sent galore.
And those that rise in quiet dark’s defense,
who drive out past the population lines,
have no in-group, for talks of future tense
and find in stars no god or godly signs.
April 6th, 1965 – Early Bird becomes the first commercial communications satellite to reach geosynchronous orbit.
*Composed April 6th, 2015