So the rest of the week I thought I try something a little different. Recently you’ve all been putting up with something I’m trying to pass off as ‘drawing,’ and I really appreciate everyone’s lack of eggs thrown at my house. However, you’re in for a treat, because I wanted to feature the work of a true artist, one of my photographer friends. Of course if you like her work, please tell her here. And , to pay homage the only way I know how, I’m including poems inspired by her work. Please, enjoy this mash up collaboration thingy. And finally, if you feel your muse rapping you on the back of the head, feel free to comment with your own piece of spider-based wordplay:
Anansi hasn’t climbed his web in three days.
Afraid of what he’s caught inside, he stays perched below,
dangling like a clandestine spy on a string.
Counter to what you’re thinking, he’s not planning a heist,
not practicing a circus act on his tightrope invisible wire,
not even crying somewhere private about
some she-spider who almost bit his head off.
“So why,” you ask, “is he so flighty?”
Well, the day before last,
he awoke to a crash of cobwebs singing
as some flying thing whizzed into his sticky strings.
Sometimes, he plays them like a harp,
enjoying their sweet music before
they are destroyed carelessly by clumsy prey.
Flying is for the foolish.
Sometimes, the neighborhood midges
play daredevil games,
guessing which rings of web will
trap them in an airborne grave;
often they are wrong.
But it’s been a long time since old spider’s
been caught off guard,
and his heart’s not what it used to be,
and goddamnit, some nights he just needs
to sleep in past sunrise, but this mighty
missile frightened him so much that
hasn’t caught a wink of shuteye in
even one of his eight eyes.
Finally, he finds the courage to
Venture up his lifeline;
Carefully he peers at the pigsty
that used to be his home and sees the hell-beast
who crash landed like an alien from a Hollywood set.
A twinkling, winged creature, she’s sweating
trying to break her bonds.
She pleads with him (for some reason
she speaks spider), to let her go;
and says she must warn some Peter Pan
about a man named Hook’s plan to sell
Neverland to the highest bidder.
But Anansi has never much concerned himself
with the matters of dangerous men,
and with anger still boiling hot in his stomach at
being trespassed, he settles in for an afternoon snack.