Tag Archives: spider

Blueprints for a dream catcher

I figured out
        why they made dream catchers
        with yarn
                                          while I was
                 pinch ‘n’ rolling my
     morning balls

          the daddy long leg
                       spun the web                      I slept
                                                             in the corner
                                                    below ‘er

where it caught the dead that flew confused
leaving the thin sail waving
with the embedded dead
all wrapped up soft
undulating thinly clinging to the tetrahedron
on walls with silk curves that hold

they think you’re
          just sitting there
                                and scary

                                                           O how little
                                                some trickle

the masks
on your back

precognitive dreams
           in an infinite
wave like soft flags
because of the embedded dead
left waving       thin                  you were doing something
                                               somewhere else
                                                we had something in common

                     precognitive dreams
                 in an infinite

                  spider webs                         undulate soft

How I learned to love the spider (still to this day)

When I still lived in San Jose
I was slowly realizing I was never
going to figure out the sorting system
at Michael’s, it made no sense—
all of my attempts amounted to never
quite getting it right, so I stopped trying
but that’s besides the point—
I was going home—

I lived not far from there at the time
and my friend Conrad had already
made himself at home
thru the sliding glass door of the apartment
a bottle of shitty wine hell yeah why not

then I looked up and saw the spider
on the ceiling right above my head

it was childish as hell—I wanted
to get it drunk—so I put it in a jar

I was going to release it—I made sure
it was sealed tight and used a safety pin
to poke air holes so it could breathe
and so I could give it wine—

but somewhere between poking air holes
and grabbing the bottle something
went wrong—

it was gone

                       still to this day he denies he did it

and I can’t remember him havin’ any chance anyway

How I learned to love the spider (preheat)

I don’t know how many people were there
in this boggy meadow somewhere in Florida
a festival by day
a carnival of oil pastel lights dipped in naptha at night

thubwomping teepee’s with spinning
thingamabobs in the center with handles
that I sat on like a tornado—
burning incense—wearing sunglasses—
(It was the full moon)

I wasn’t on molly
until later
didn’t want my head
rubbed by strangers—
I was being guided
through hyperspace at light speed
in my tent—the mountains of spice would melt
and we’d pass it down five or six times—

Meli would run off and I’d be all
holy shit oh my god
at my first real breakthrough (that wasn’t) but

Who has time for terminology
when you’re lead straight
to the terminal for the first time
by something that
never showed their face again

I was doing flybys of planets that looked artificial

The control panel audible like
six diamonds had come together 
and formed cubes twisting, a knot
in another dimension

A yantra

So what does any of this
have to do
with the spider
you may be wondering
as I exited the tent
indolebreathed and metawinged
into the meadow
lit up by the moon
chain reaction
you can invision it wavelike
always twisting to and from
itself collapsing opalescent and alive
a mix of pastel and neon
synesthesia whispers to accept
like the untying of a lace
or your legs made of lightning

It was just the most majestic thing
to be and to be disintegrated
off on the outskirts of a meadow
listening to the musics mesh
on the winds without much difference
eyes shut, eyes closed

Except when… it ran up to my sandals faster
than my choked perception could calculate 

before I even knew what the bone white hand
on the ground that could rove faster
than I could—than anything that I knew could was—

I was flailing goosepimpled
acidwashed insane
down the grass meadow faster
than I ever had in my life—

I thought about the times I’d raced
Raul in fourth grade and won every time—he was so hopeful

I ran—my soul screaming—my body in flight
to the laser dome fishnet cushions
the giant oven on fire—my synthesizer—
the stuffed animals
sewn together that wouldn’t burn
they would liquify
in love—mystified by the terror
of your trickster curiosity

A bag full of button pushers

Flor de Caña                            mapacho spliffs
       for breakfast
on the way to Managua

     three days
without CB1 antagonization
outside of Masaya on a small papaya farm

       mutts with dangling     udders
  tied to palm trees          smoke
rising from a volcano                a little puppy
     appears          a tarantula walks by
                  The Great Gatsby

           in the little green honda
    dish out cordobas
treble techno taxi
    smell of burning trash
everywhere           zoombeep the chicken bus

                    you played
       with your astral hoop              taking
                long exposure shots of the light
       patterns                thinking I was in
love              wondering if we were
really                  just                              I

didn’t sleep
     ’til we passed thru Granada
                     the oldest city in the Americas
skeptical as a blown up hospital
                or a crater lake gone dormant  
  for a swim         a silver married Aerostar      
wandering the streets for Toña at 3am

¿Puedo comprar una cerveza?
               …¿Que?                                Toña
              Ohhhhhh…                           gracias
                     Sólo… necesito veinte cordobas

  all gated up wasted bodies littered the street 

Sólo           necesito
veinte       cordobas            
                                                No tengo, no tengo
            (fireworks every thirty minutes all night)

Trout said it wasn’t the cactus
                          I was looking for
      Weefee San Juan Del Sur
                               volcanic earthquakes
       at the bar
                               the power goes out
  every other hour
     a Jesus and Mary parade         assembles
a Jamaican with a    levamisole handshake
                                           mirths gold teeth

           Landcruiser pothole buzzhands ring
                  in the howler monkey’s
       jungle         their howls in the blue morning
heard for misty miles        swaying in the windy
      trees                going for a walk down
    to Playa Mathilda                           two girls
              with red eyes on the beach
        making necklaces

                                   You got any weed?

Poems like capsules

I watched as she bent the time
that I was weaving like a spider
hanging upside down from the ceiling.

There is an aproximity effect and a resonance
that dismisses the complications with space.

I back-handed a fly that flew into the room
and it turned around and left
out the open window from which it came.

I’ve been drinking something living
and illuminated in the shadows
cast by autumnal trees.