I Watched It Well The Spider On The Porch Dwell

plucking its strings

it's getting noisy

I'm impatient

I watched it well

the spider on

the porch dwell

it's always

been in a dream

why so late

I saw forth it's

with a ball point

pen in hand held

holding it well

as if it were

a-clicking its

magic hour a path

through the air

in or out for as yet

it has sprung

a true branch

why so great

a-thinking how

it will, it can

spark dawn inside

as I spun it

around untill gasped

I collapsed up the hill

the skylark sang

oh, my wonder

I don't want it

approaching

the flame wisely saw

as I stumbled

fast across

a-new thought

I found for now

I required

at first wings clear

self existing flying

for only on Jupiter

once only on

aspirations to be

drear from

the dispositions

getting started

I did not know here

why I am also there 

not at all to no floor

or by how far

over night I goes

into the last

lines flowing a-stroll

I saw you much

you see me more

I got this morn

forever strong

and ever-so in front

I can beforehand

as I stumbles fast

across a-new thought

complete being open

is pressing on

paper as if it were

directions dense

thick of nights

along the dark

edges of this

the new place

the new thread 

the new painting on

within beams

within works

on a hinge reflected 

upon that 

screened in porch

almost invisible

almost at the end

this is where

of a storm

of a picture

of rain blowing

at sunset

almost invisible

I watched it well

the spider

on the porch dwell

slowly looking

how to hope it

shimmers full

and then in

a flash a-passing

from the sky

somewhere

between you 

the horizon

it can be a blue door

stepping up 

between we both

above to see under

residing a time

reconsidering

as if it were

directions dense

thick of nights

a time together

off elsewhere

i been there

long redefining

self existing flying

for only on Jupiter

or the birds of Jove

I got this morn

to yes observe back

in a middle world

outta the deep

outta the form

when a cloud

lays a pillow down

maybe I will go

in any senses so far

as to what puzzles

long my mind

the new painting on 

golden days now

around the winds

at black feathers watch

a fledgling bare

each bending

each stretching

unto a bright sketch

at the gate loose

every swing

on a star

is available

the water tower

the leaf bridge

carries a shade

suddenly at this

one wild flower

shining down

on the ground

through a cloud

so far as to an

darken day

awhiles back, at myself?

glides over

given of the river

I will still do it

I watched it well

the spider

on the porch dwell

I see the dark