Over at Pagan Reveries, Ryan has posted several poems about Orpheus and the Orphic tradition. Now it just so happens that one of my favorite authors is the poet Jack Spicer, and it so happens that he’s written more than once using Orpheus as a theme, so I figured today was a good day to be sharing some of his poetry.
Spicer is an interesting figure: he lectured on the subject of “dictated” poetry- a state of inspiration where the poems are essentially given directly to the poet from whoever is responsible for inspiration. Spicer called them Martians, but I have my own suspicions about where my writing comes from.
It very much feels like taking dictation sometimes, regardless of the source.
Sharp as an arrow Orpheus
Points his music downward.
Hell is there
At the bottom of the seacliff.
Nothing by this music.
Is a frigate bird or a rock or some seaweed.
Is a slippering wetness out at the horizon.
Hell is this:
The lack of anything but the eternal to look at
The expansiveness of salt
The lack of any bed but one’s
Music to sleep in.
Orpheus in Hell