Sunday, 6 September 2020
Dry Web.
I opened the door of the outside toilet
And was flicked in the face by a spiders web.
Perhaps I am the dream food for arachnids,
Dinner - tea - supper for a hundred years;
No more of hunting for migrant insects,
No more of spinning silk through space.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 6th. 2020.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
If I were a camera I would zoom in directly On winter trees loud with anthracite crows, The ice white ripples on a cold shallow lake; The da... -
With you not here beside me Life seems a near blank page With only a comma on it. A solitary smudge of ink Where words should build cathedr...
-
Yesterday I went back home To the land of the White Rabbit, The Griffin, and the Sheep who both Rows and knits, parting the autumn reeds Wit...
No comments:
Post a Comment