i exist (am the spider in the sky)
listless drips onthrough
leaves
that
tickletouch my
(bodiless; body
and i caress
each tree
like a distant lover
and each leaf (are the earthen fingertips)
is the
strangling fruit
that lies in the
hands of the sinner.

and i am the sinner.

and i(sinner)am the
quiet roar that
touches your
chest when
the earth
wakes each morning.

and i(sinner)have
come to take you away.
because when they burn you
to bits-
((the sinner : the hyena) that
needs for the fleshscraps.)

and it hurts
when you breathe
because you
bite me like an apple
and your lungs
are teeth.

and it tickles
in the trees

and i (am the spider in the sky)
have got you
to eat you like a bug,

and you sit in my web,
and admire the view.

I found myself wanting to pray.
To lift up my words and let them float away.
Instead I put ink down on paper.
Hammering and shaping them to display,
This sense of wrongness and decay.
I’ve been reintroduced to the light,
Only to see that I’ve been made from clay.

Floating in the navy blue abyss.
Weeds of the sea
floating atop the choppy water.
At first glance you wouldn't tell the difference between it and myself;
lifeless, lost, detached from where I came.
I ask it who am I?
Who are we?
It drifts south, a reminder of the love that moved on.
It's easy to depart from something so stagnant.

Each meter further down
the navy turns to black.
Alone, every life reserve severed.
Afloat within the darkness.
Here I am with only myself,
contemplating my karma.
Gravity seems to have retired at the surface.
Disoriented and empty.
Being down feels up,
and what's left feels right.

A broken heart one year on looks like
a life I'm quietly putting back together.
Stitching contentment and peace into
the lining of curtains that open onto new landscapes,
growing bold in solitude.

Loneliness is still a ghost in the corner
but these days he is more polite with his interruptions,
and I breathe in more oxygen than lonesomeness.

You still find me in the quiet hours and sometimes I give in,
sinking backwards in the surf and noise of lost love.
but these days I float more readily,
back to the surface.