Kicking Spiders

Sloughing from furrows of brows

Words stated in clear air

Ears of stone and water drifted by

Grabbing words from near and far

Mashed to a sense and breathed out again

Kicking spiders with their own poison

Out talking the radio up and down its dial

For now we are were finding that single thing

As a relic

But first

There is the drift

And response

Counterclaims and counting down

To nothing of value

I counter valued that claimant

With a sly move of my own

Whatever that something may be

There is a difference you know

Only you don’t know it yet

Or do you?

May 2009