---
title: "On Spiders"
date: 2026-03-22T01:03:00-05:00
type: onspiders
---

```
Whenever I stay still,
  I feel the spiders weave their webs around me.
  Their tiny legs entangle me in silk,
  traverse my body as they seem to proudly
  inspect their work and into darkness sink.


  There're times I see the spiders' threads on others,
  They shimmer gently in the purple dusk,
  Or sway with zephyrs in the hair of lovers,
  stuck.

  To listen to the webs is to hear echoes
  of social butterflies ensnared within
  arachnid galleries of human ethos,
  whose pieces come and go upon a whim.

  Their curators are blind and want for stories,
  delivered as vibrations through the links,
  for righteous anger, anguish, joy and worries,
  superimposing frequencies that mix,
  reveberating through the sprawling complex
  of radial lines and newly captured prey,
  resisting first but ultimately hopeless,
  these signals grow in urgency and they
  form standing waves that make the victims sing
  and even from myself bring out a resonant ring.
```


<!--
  the signals cause a standing wave
  intensify with every passing moment
  arachnid galleries of human drama,
  temples to the human mind
  (traverse my body all while I sleep soundly,)
  They shimmer gently in the setting sun, -->