Doodle Cosmos

Complex spirals, imperfect circles,
And long stringy, webby extensions—
Those are the patterns the universe

Appears to excel in. What is that
To do with humanity? you ask,
Doing your best to get on with things,

Wondering what to do with your life,
If you’re still young enough to wonder,
As if life were a storage unit

Of indeterminate dimensions
And contents that you’d inherited
And might be able to profit by—

Or just fed up with all the effort
Of whatever immortality
Project has suckered you—doing well,

Doing good, raising kids, making art,
Making heavenly reservations,
Making the world a kindlier place,

Making the world your private fiefdom,
Making yourself its most famous face.
What are spiral galaxies to you?

Nothing much. Maybe a little more
Than you are to them. You catch yourself
Doodling in the meeting, the lecture.

You hike past sandstone cliffs of rock art
Centuries or millenniums old,
You decorate your hands with henna.