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“September” and “Spider”

October 1, 2008

Last night I watched the movie, Spider— a Sundance film from 2003 about a man living with schizophrenia.  It was a sparse film, little dialogue; and of the variety where that which is real, and that which is unreal (read: in the protagonist’s mind) was indistinguishable.  A virtual mimesis of his mental condition.  During the long lapses in the film, and under the influence of a little sangria, I wrote two verse-paragraphs, the first in a while:

 

“September”

Those of us with time
mark the trees by their
fringes: that one tapped
by Midas, this one
bearing embers dropped
and burning– clustered three
here, four there. The leaves
turning is not the work
of one night, as it
seems to you with less
time. Pulling air, the
supple pieces curl,
inhaling the very flames
of their transpiring.

“Spider”

In the windowpanes
hang relics of completed lives:
whorls of streaming light,
fibers of shine cut
like spoked wheels, or octagons
nested one within
the next. The laborer
has fled, leaving silk,
sequined purses brimming
with eight-legged eggs.

She has died among
the hollowed, hallowed
shells of those killed for her.

She has died, and the silk
is quaking, holding
pindrops of rain against
the glass, against my
prying eyes. The eggs
are stranded; few will survive.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Charles permalink
    October 8, 2008 1:43 am

    Well done. Particularly like Spider. Nice imagery. Can see those abandoned webs fluttering in the breeze in my minds eye.

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