[stylist] Spiders

[William L Houts]

Hi Attie,

I'm so happy to hear about your tarantula.  People defame them in all 
sorts of ways,  don't they?  They're reputed to be vicious or poisonous 
or bad for your complexion or some damned thing, but of course they're 
mostly harmless, even if they are mildly repulsive, heh.


--Bill





On 3/16/2014 7:09 AM, Atty Rose wrote:
> We have a tarantula named Azreilla. She is a rose hair and very big. 
> Just for those who don't know, tarantulas have hair on them and when I 
> could see I thought it looked course, but after touching it I can tell 
> you it is soft like a chick.
>
> And they web. She eats crickets from the pet store.
>
> Write on,
> Atty
>
> Thought i'd share. LOL
>
> ----- Original Message ----- From: "William L Houts" <lukaeon at gmail.com>
> To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Sent: Sunday, March 16, 2014 8:57 AM
> Subject: [stylist] Poem - "A Spider"
>
>
>> Hi Peeps,
>>
>> Here's something I just dug up from one of my older, creakier poetry 
>> folders.  I wrote this sometime in my twenties, and I think it still 
>> works.  OH hell, why don't I just say it:  I'm in love with this poem 
>> and wouldn't edit it dfor a mint, LOL.  I've written a few poems 
>> about spiders, as I love the hideous little monsters somewhat, but 
>> this is probably the best.  Comments welcome, as always.
>>
>>
>> --Bill
>>
>>
>> ---
>>
>>
>> Sprawled in my favorite chair,
>> I  found a spider striving down
>> my sweater's cotton roads;
>> uncruel, I meant to brush her
>> from my collar to the floor,
>> but a brainless finger crushed her.
>>
>> Drunk on ideas the size of salt,
>> her witty legs, those marvelous legs
>> had skittered her down the wall
>>
>> to vistas of heaving; the ebb
>> and flo of my breathing.
>>
>> A ruined husk.  I didn't reckon
>> the difference between our lives,
>> the stellar gap between a spider's
>> life and mine:  and this was my task,
>> for if it exists, a reckoning spider is
>> truly a monster, a foe to be fought.
>>
>> But she was no monster,
>> and I was only a man in a chair,
>> reading, with no ill intent:  and yet
>> that tiny walker died, a small
>> color in the world gone to gray
>>
>> at my blameless finger's end.
>>
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>> -- 
>> "Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."
>>
>>           --Jane Siberry
>>
>> _______________________________________________
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>
>
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-- 
"Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."

           --Jane Siberry