Posted in Poetry

Delicate Geometry

The spider never sees its web.
Not really. Not as we see it.
The delicate geometry of it —
The implications. There’s
No real cunning, is there? No
Stratagem. Every inch of
Every thread the spider spins
Is coded in, fashioned
Down the palimpsest of
Geologic time.

This piece appears in the Tiny Seed Journal.

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