Thursday, September 16, 2010

Late Fall Spiders

Late fall spiders claim these hardwood woods,
Spitting stiff patterns thick to hold a year,
Trembling fat and yellow, hiding sleek heads
In bodies bloated by the sun. It must be fear
That makes the hunters bulge on through with barrels
Of blue, omitting mansions from the air,
Sending jewels down in sickly swirls
To lie in leaf-rot until with brief despair
They become the bottom where they are. My home
Was spun on autumn hopes as well, a place
To summon up a dream, awaiting some
Chill other-worldly stroke to bring my peace,
To ruin my dear design, and yet to give
Me back the earth where yellow spiders live.

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