Spider
“many gods / lie among lianas”—Denise Levertov remaining on the branch
Spider
after a heavy rain one
still makes their house out of threads
this one that is just a bug
with a braid
the haunted boy asleep
in a trick tree of breath
he yields nothing but confessions
impossible experiences
if there is nothing left to rule, rule
the ruling class
it is a wonderful skill to disappear
fragment community
what are they thinking anyway
barely he might hear
the bare noon in the tree
still stalking the night room, but say, through me,
“Still the darkened room”
“It’s time it was time / it is time”
sometimes the neighborhood sees
saws wonderment with its eyes
but don’t hold hands
already there is a bridge
a hem of road is made alive
by the attempt to act as the writer
tall livelihood, the very best injury
a mortal by accident
a bloom of order: when the stunning
laugh less, there can be shut
the muses slowly in continuous lock
kid is fly-trap, then pitcher plant, then a vine
the lianas cabling across a great expanse
an oak court of possible heirlooms
each of the arms held
each of the bodies held
each of the heads
