[stylist] Poem - "A Spider"

[William L Houts]

HI Thea,

Spiders are absolutely terrifying when you think about them with any 
kind of detachment.  I mean, they're hairy, some of them, they've got 
six eyes and eight legs; what in the hell else do you need to tell you 
that this thing is a futhermucking MONSTER?  But I love them anyway, 
even --or maybe especially-- the large ones on your porch which 
vampirize flies.  I mean, it's not like they're devouring elves or 
something for Christ's sake, they're ridding the world of vermin and I 
say good sodding riddance!  The world is a good place, I think; and it 
would not be half the joy it is without the occasional monster.


--Bill









On 3/17/2014 9:22 AM, Miss Thea wrote:
> Hi, Bill.
> Strictly speaking, I'm a phobe of all insects, especially flies.
> I like spiders because they eat flies, and I actually love 
> "Charlotte's Web," both the book and the movie.
> I just don't want my daughter to marry one. LOL
> Seriously, though, my daughter can't stand spiders.
> Thea
> PS: Did anyone get my "Ode to There-There"?
> -----Original Message----- From: William L Houts
> Sent: Sunday, March 16, 2014 10:19 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem - "A Spider"
>
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> Thanks for your note, Miss Thea.  That an arachnophobe could possibly
> appreciate my rather sad spider poem comes as high praise:  thank you
> dearly.
>
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> --Bill
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> On 3/16/2014 4:56 PM, Miss Thea wrote:
>> I love the tactile use of language, Bill.
>> Unfortunately, my flesh is crawling now.
>> I'll have to write something furry to get rid of that feeling.
>> But it is powerful
>> I see the remorse, and yet the reasoning: You didn't mean to kill 
>> her, yet you felt bad.
>> I'm an insect-phobe though, so I'll have to wash. LOL
>> In Englishk, you made a pretty powerful impression on me.
>> Thea
>>
>> -----Original Message----- From: William L Houts
>> Sent: Sunday, March 16, 2014 9:57 AM
>> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
>> 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
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>> at my blameless finger's end.
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-- 
"Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."

           --Jane Siberry