The Spider
Spider, spider, spinning tight
against the darkness of the night,
what inspired geometry
is wonder at your web from me?
On what different leads or lies
could my sympathies arise
if, instead of these aspire,
I had but gone out there entire?
In the purpose of your art
twist the neurons of my heart.
For having lost a rhythm’s beat,
I dread my hand and drag my feet.
What the knowing? What the chain?
In what furnace burns my brain?
Where’s the Advil? What’s to grab?
I’ve got your heartthrob in my bag.
When I, as witness, turn from spears
to fat and lean, bread, pills and tears,
and spider winding, watched by me.
And nature’s this made all of we.
Spider, spider, knitting white
‘gainst the blackness of the night
what freaky strange geometry
could frame our sweet-ass symmetry?
