Author Information
Arachnid
Caught in a web of tendrils of truth.
Highway matrix, cold glass light.
A lost boat, bad art, adrift in the middle of some ocean.
Elsewhere, umbrellaed by a dark night storm,
a forgotten island with one palm tree
suddenly sinks into the depths.
Another tiny wise voice goes silent.
Not that anyone ever listened to her whispers.
Not that anyone ever saw her tears.
In a different universe,
in a different time,
the boat was not lost,
the art was good,
she had no tears.
But we are here where we need fear.
Cautiously questioning one another.
Searching for the Jabberwocky,
where all the problems began.
An instinct to decapitate our one enemy.
Lost boats need to find a friend.
Islands are beautiful symbols of ambitious life.
Passion has no shame.
Love has no ration.
We are spiders.
