Spider

I sit smoking behind
the coffee shop where I work.
A small spider crouches to my left
in the shade, on the sidewalk;
-patient-unmoving-

And though I try to read the lines
of Mr. Williams;

Now it is spring
Elena is dying.

The slight brown figure, cropped
against gray concrete, keeps drawing
my attention.

Inside porcelain cups chime against
porcelain saucers, and little voices
chime against insignificant things.

I worry that it will bite me.


______________________________


The Dance

What areas have
so far
-as into say, have as of yet-
been
Overcome.

which is to imply
Conquered.

This is the beginning
of effort
the blind dance
devoid of music
a figure sets out from

reTurns to

With no set course
or sound
to move by
-be moved by-
Yet in the journey
finds a pattern
creates a rhythm
in each step

Every gesture
eliminates possibility
save possibility of possibilities

Broken fragments
slip together
though unrelated
manage a soft fit
form a new shape


To form is to
Define
is to create

Set a new course
map a new journey


_______________________


Paull

I

I am in envy of you-

Not of your language;
by which I feel I do better,
But of your consistency.

Of your modernity,
(I feel as if you own it).

A tone at once
maudlin,
And stoic; which addresses
its audience with a particular
patience and care.
You have carved
your peach
to the pit,
And now offer that petrified
scrotum for our nourishment.

In hope the seed might
take root, Split soil-
Become a tree…


II

My verse too often feels
Archaic

Grates like a rusty gate
in an 18th century cemetery.

Each headstone
cracked
covered with moss;
Each name rendered
Illegible by wind and rain.

As though the elements
perceived, there were
none left living for whom
those syllables, held memory.