The Web
I and a spider sought a padlock.
He won. The numbers he arranged with nimble legs arranged
Me in the beginning, and begat
The want of time; the gunfire of purpose too.
As loser, but gladly,
I furnished a loan
That would let life slut itself with love of all its objects
In a procession absent hurry or fear.
The spider on his thin creation lurks in the shade of a dullardly plane.
Witness cements a site wet as a vantage
Bare enough of intent that anyone can push its flesh into their name.
Through sincerity’s long scope I observe
The seen go about in ache, for complicated lessons
In pain. But, too dull of mind, the observation
Sours, its charm jangling unthanked,
Such that any trick could catch them up in it.
Even my numb tongue could lure one in …
And one could stride about the baffle of the lock —
And, graven, perch upon its shackle’s interred tip —
And chuckle, wistful, at the fiddling that tickles like the spidered skin.
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
Unadorned Air
Push at a pain for drowning in.
What could I try to hang in you,
Air?
Air? Air. Greed loves you, Wish.
Is lapping red at your soft hull.
Put
My boat in air, my oar through.
I’m
Damp in the heart. I’m a rotted
Knot.
The past is what I’ll grovel over
Until I can kill the air of wishes.
I’ve
No loss to credit nothing with,
Just
The fact that any air can leave.
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
An Eye Under a Hundred Tons of Earth
What is blinded by the scale
Arrives renderable,
That witness the scope
Leaves unrendered,
Without epiphany,
That in the amounting
Reclaimed from aboutness
Its wisdom,
Without entropy,
The latent facing-up of possibility
Eases you
From rendering’s irredeemable etch
Into a permeable un-pity,
With a density.
No possession does this put loose
To the thing’s qua,
An untidy pile.
Inside of randomness lurks lower orders.
To face this soil raw
Of claims upon it, repair
The drillbit’s jailbroke limiter in earth.
At this pressure of submersion
Is no white coat to be draped in.
Only the aping of
An effort to repair
The scope that aping broke.