spider & fly



the web unravels,
the spider unravels,
the cocoon confining her prey


the fly is born again,
resurrected again,

is unraveled
from the spider’s web
from between
the branches of the tree,
the barren fig tree, growing

in the center of the barren garden.



I am the man
who obscures God’s designs
with my empty-headed words,
learned from hearsay
and the gossip of children

I am the man
broken by God,
crushed for my sins,
pierced for my faults.

On me lies a punishment
that brings no peace,
wounds that bring no healing.

I am a man
of sorrows,
familiar with suffering.

I am the ravager never ravaged,
plunderer never plundered
whose ravaging is over
whose plundering is done.

I am the Aleph and the Tav,
the Alpha and Omega,
the word at the Beginning:

I am the man
of the maiden with child,
the first and the last,
the whore and the holy one,
the bride and the bridegroom
and my husband begot me.

I am black but lovely,
O daughters of Jerusalem,
take no notice of my blackness,
for it is the sun that has burned me.

And I am sick with love.


three on a match
sidewalk crack
broken mirror

shadow, lost.
reflection, lost

also soul,
lost lost lost

in threes.

three shards of glass,
three sidewalk cracks,
three lighting the match

one two three
three two one.

now leave this place.
thy work is done.


what the hell is?
what the hell?

what the hell is


(dat dis dese dose)

rapping tapping on
my bedroom door,
my kitchen door,
the closet door,
the cellar door,

“anybody home?! anybody home?!”
it says it says.

just the wind it says,
just the wind.

nothing more.

music is

music is music is
dust in the air,
breath in the serpent,
air in a vacuum.
dust in a vacuum,
serpent in a vacuum.

music is as music
abhors a vacuum
as nature abhors a vacuum,

fills a vacuum with invisible sound,
visible air, invisible breath
floating on invisible air

like a serpent in a vacuum,
breathing in the vacuum,
the air of the vacuum,

the dust of the vacuum
floating in a vacuum
of music in a vacuum.

l.g. corey