Friday, September 23, 2016

Jack Scott writes

Part V

Still planet, 
leisurely revolving 
in no haste or hurry 
distance becomes you, 
pretty earth. 
Pretty, pretty, pretty earth, 
beyond the spinning web 
so small, bugsize, 
it seems caught in it, 
dessert, the proper touch 
to end the feast of feasts 
this sight of hunger’s end 
now that hunger’s nearly past, 
all illusion now of appetite.

A dream instead of hunger, 
vision takes the place of thirst 
a dream of wining, 
dining and never being done. 
A dream within the dream of dreaming 
at the edge of up and down, 
a dream of living on unhungry 
or dying full - 
nothing in between. 
The gift of time 
that would endow 
equal opportunity for all 
to continue falling up 
while everything falls 
down and out 
and nevermore back in. 
All that goes up 
must not come down 
nor should it,

The dream now: 
a larger web to spin, 
the fortitude to do it, 
a web from sun and moon to every star, 
large enough to hold 
all things within it and at once. 
Deeper, deeper, in we go 
(anaerobic self-hypnosis?) 
the mistress of the smaller web 
spins the larger, bucket list, 
her bill of self-appointed rights: 
homestead on the larger web 
followed by retirement, 
a deed to claim the property, 
low interest reconstruction loans, 
alarm to warn of trespass, 
gun to keep bad guys out, 
freezer and refrigerator,
lots of fresh food in them, 
an insect supermarket near at hand, 
good health or (failing that) free pills, 
time to learn to read, and spider books 
bifocals for the finest print, 
company to talk to, electricity, 
music, a psychiatrist, 
time and a half for Saturdays, 
Sundays at double-time, 
spider union to keep things fair 
two weeks’ vacation on a yellow flower, 
walks around the lattice park, 
pension for old age, 
bird insurance and a lawyer 
to protecting patent, contract, share, 
cremation after death, 
recognition in a mirror, 
then time to think, 
and dream.

All winds wear out 
and every spider dies. 
Each dreamer has a final dream. 
All gusted into space again: 
the web with all its benefits, 
the spider and the sun and moon, 
the stars 
by a wind so large 
it doesn’t need to blow 
to move all things away 
from where they were.

When that wind falters, 
to move things further on 
they come to rest again 
right where they were, 
yet always 
some inexperienced things 
dream a little further on, 
dream within a dream of dreaming, 
vision at the fork of choice, 
choosing falling all the way again 
or further up.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?