Spider at 10,000 ft

You dangle from your threads,
Unaware of what you see.
10,000 feet up, you can perceive the lines
Of longitude and latitude,
And a fraction of
This wordly scree.

African promontory
Looks like a layered cake to me,
And yet you still dangle
10,000 ft up, evading
My metaphysical tangle.
You, and the land, and me,
He who supposedly perceives
This juxtaposition of worlds
And ‘reals’.
Yours is real, it is that web,
My friend,
And instincts that inform
Its being and creation.

But mine, mine seems
Endless frustration,
Belied by a Cessna’s

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