Eight

Words are never quite enough

to mediate.

We are spiders

and we weave a web

(it has always been a web)

for each and every

omnia et singula

and it's so much fancy silk

(so little really)

until flesh and blood

are caught

and in hours and days

between months or years

no longer a lie, or
truth suspended

the tension of every thread

(each and every: writhing,
sticky fumbling)

is tugged so

We awake,

We feast,
lips and tongue forsaking mediation

Consuming our own loneliness[,

We'll suck him dry.]