by Pavel Chichikov
A fine brown spider wandered through my papers
Her supple limbs testing for a foothold
And her palps thrust forward, imaging the contours
Of a rugged fibrous map of ink and whiteness
Where did she come from, did I bring from outside
This lanky curious stranger – or from another place
To wrap this inner, apathetic world
With unseen glory, cryptic energy and form?
Visitants appear and disappear, angels, demons
Apparitions, messages and signs
And then with one bright wave of sunshine
All disappear again, regaining shadows
One night a patient cross stood upright in the hallway
Stiff as any monopod or angel
But this one dangles from a string, moves on
As if the world is nothing but a crossroad
Much better that we bless all unseen things.
Openly they cross the straight road that we travel
On their way from darkness to the borderlands
Where seldom any human dares to go
Looking neither to the right nor left
We go on, blind, nor do we see
Bright figures float on spectral wings
Above immense but unseen trees
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)
