SPIDER HOLDS COCOON

 

 

Fire engine ladder into the sycamore

to catch a cat who is the only one

that sees the fire—

 

before it's too late, the helmet smokes

and the cat can speak, regal

like one of the bird-cats descended

in spaceships onto ancient Egypt to offer

the plans for the pyramids. 

 

Between two leaves, a spider

wraps its legs around a chalky cocoon—

waits.

 

This is how it is

and was:

a secret whispered between animals,

one blanket-wash heat-heart

rubs civilization down

like a stone . . .

A DEVIL DEALER, A WALTZING RIVER
 --after Peter Miller

Here's a card trick I discovered:

Pick a card—look at how

there's a heart in the top corner
and a pitchfork in the bottom.

Hold on, sugar, the devil's dealing.
                                               
It's old hat to say it's all going to hell,
but I just said it anyway.
The only hope is that only gods
offer such constant looks of disappointment,
 
bound and gagged in a circle of gasoline.
 
Stick that card in your blouse and let's dance
to the crescendo along the chandelier,
shaking light drops along the coast,
the lava mouth of the canyons.
 
The house may be on fire, baby,
but those flames belong to me.