aracnidosis

she stands effortlessly

at the point that my steeps

inevitably converge.

on the altar of fancy

she holds the rein

that pull my tearing sight.

 

although with no deadly sting

she poured poison into me

for her delight_to feel shivering

the satin stories in which I was

mailed as the harlequin fly

that abandons its moves

to the omnipotent check mate

of the web spawned board.

she interlaced her lips

with air woven light

and all that she said

had the consistency

of sticky resin crusting

my impotence in glimpses

of her orgiastic hunger.

 

the stars were her thousand eyes

blinking and blinding where I froze

to record her smirkings and dashes

in one dark prayer launched to the

astronomical depths that would

annihilate my fears with the strings

that revive the constellations smiles.

and I made myself to set out to meet

the inner life that her threads concealed

to seek the beauty of the black worlds

loomed by her extremities, rhythmically

savoring the vibrations that sweat makes,

less my world would have to me been

secluded in the concentric threat that

no one consumed but me_as the

intestinal turmoil of a storm that has

engulfed the dew leaving no halo behind.

 

her supernova jaws set to implode me in_

the ghostly throat I carry in covering my own

to revive something that should have remained

in the stink of carcass from her consumed feasts_

 

it hunts me and lives within me:

to take my wriggling world back

from the sneering imagination

that posted her lures in a centre

which revolutions eclipse mine.

 

 

 

 

II

 

when the day narrows its rays

I can feel it growling and rattling

inside me down deep in the guts,

primordial in its absent waiting.

it spawns its threading touch

upon all that there is to be felt

spreading its ghostly scannin limbs

to the directions that its ambushes

would quench its predatory needs.

yet it keeps me together

to what is not simply perceived

but tasted in the quivers

of prismatic cries pending

on the snapping of its voracious teeth.

what has happened

is happening only in

what it expects to say

and everything is only

in relation to everything

it has left to say_

the spider

spirally sneaking among

a collier of flies gathered

from the scared leaves where

it tossed and spread its web

now waiting for the endnote

vibrating in the extensions

of its Aeolian organs.

 

 

 

 

III

 

the spider that was once hers

is now the spider that in veins

has always been mine within me