Madeleine Bloom Webs
the spiders of the mind
weaving nets in my head
to catch flies or
glowworms maybe
the snails of time
creep up the walls
leaving sticky traces
all over the place
the webs of dream already abandoned
the threads of day’s web not yet taken
all moments are just
a spiral winding into eternity
the hands of the clock
moving in ever concentric circles
the tissues of night
elegantly may flow
and not bury my dreams
beneath piles of things
the hands of sleep
still on me
i again get lost in
the maze of the mind
the webs of dream already abandoned
the threads of day’s web not yet taken
all moments are just
a spiral winding into eternity
the hands of the clock
moving in ever concentric circles
