by Bill Yarrow
now the days are empty
and time has lost its head
I am the bloodworm
crawling in pin earth
the greedy mosquito
in love with the naked
baby, the red mole
burrowing the butterfly dust
here comes
the involuntary spider
with the emerald web
around his throat
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A version of this poem appeared an eternity ago in Muse Apprentice Guild.
very vivid. ***
I remember MPG. An interesting venue. I like the roll call of dark creatures here - bloodworm to spider. Sharp. Also, the possible readings of thread in the closing lines. Good writing.
the "involuntary spider" is the most intriguing pair of words I've read today.
"The Involuntary Spider" would make a good title for a book of poetry. *
This reminds me of Ecc. 12, the sense of slow melancholy.
Enjoyed.
Lxx
Like this very much.*
Extreme imagism.
the enigma grows.
Thanks for your read and comments, R.K., Sam, Gita, Jake, Letitia, Amanda, Gary, and Renée.
"here comes
the involuntary spider
with the emerald web
around his throat"
on my way to your house right now with mushrooms.
*
Bill, thank you for this beautiful reminder of where poetry comes from.
Thanks, Bud and Darryl!