Sunday, May 14, 2017

Kit Kelen #500 - spun up in webs

spun up in webs

off musing with what was
day to come as well

just when mind knits
walk into

a flail at least
even in a little dance
slapstick when there's no one there
no point to shout 'get off'

the not remembering is here
we're random
though we've passed before

where we could not cross
by crawling
the weight is less than touch

who walks the wire to test its strength?
who draws first prey
to go with grammar
to last lunch?

patience and cruelty are meant
and some will jump
some still as stones
might be the glyph itself

a sampler skein
of simply strung
drapery of leaf between

knit with
surely these are signs
sun sprung
breeze buffeted
dew kept to show

and though we've passed before
this is not the place

but how the light's caught there
as mist made into silk

a glyph of what yet will be written
hat and house are here too

the veil of tears
made fleeting

who's hanged herself
comes to this end

you must imagine frost
hi-tech violence
and protection

the bullet proof
tensile measure of strength

here's how we learnt to clothe ourselves
how we came to catch
and see inside
a little world
because we found it lit

and though we've passed by before
this will not be the place

these ladders alongside
perverse of us if not to climb

like lines read backward
from Year Dot

out of the Devonian
from tip of the back legs
to the spinners
from tummy
body measures all

midge mobile
grisly medieval
every death-throw shown

flies threw themselves
at impossible air

of aviators lost like this
few win such epitaphs

within the circle
this less perfect
out of kilter
bull's eye

see the centre's empty
and not where it had sat before
waves of radials run out

skew whiff with the breeze
bent to a third dimension
and – who knows – more?

did I say geometry?
it's littler than our hearing

and sometimes makes
a mist itself
with all these hidden eyes
in air

empty it out
have a riddle of why

among the fallen
pick up stick
re-purpose to not-cob the web
and this is how I pass

there when nothing was before
and where there's nothing now

this definition
is a path

tomorrow's not another day
but build from naught again and have

a haul of those who would not see

who catches here is home at last
aren't we all full of time?


  1. what catches us at home
    aren't we all full of fire

  2. aren't we full of time ... or even made of time... well this will be the theme of my next meditation!

  3. 500 is a number without time - hell - how is that possible and to be so replete with best words

  4. yes well thanks all but 501 is a bit scary ... because of what it might mean...
    still better than getting one's head cut off


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