I recall a scene years ago, in a college biology class, where the instructor was talking about how various life forms came to populate south sea islands separated by wide stretches of ocean. Certain spiders, he said, buoyed by what seemed to me a miraculous confidence, would climb trees, let out a strand of silk on the air until they were pulled into the sky on a breeze, headed who knows where. Not only would they sail over the ocean for miles, relying on wind currents to convey them to other islands that they had no assurances were even there, but they traveled backwards! All as part of life’s tendency to expand. For some reason this fact stuck with me all these years, finally emerging in this small poem, somehow expressing my life as a writer.
Mostly, I have opened my mouth to discover what I wanted to say, a sort of flying by the seat of my pants strategy. I take heart that if it works for spiders it may work for me. I was gratified to note that Gary Snyder even mentioned these spiders in a book somewhere, as a biological note.
It is the title poem of my book which will be out this fall, issued by Open Book Press, Grass Valley, CA.
he was talking about how it was
that a spider
found on different islands
separated by infinite water
could get around
(undaunted by doubt)
a silk thread
swept up by wind
maybe like a song
past understanding catches the ear
as if we could hear
filaments of ourselves on the air
a strand of dying sunlight
pulling thread out of a star
a more rational creature
would not dare
such a survival strategy –
silk — unraveling
oneself — a form of travel
I love the echoes of rhyme at the end of this poem–survival, unraveling, travel–they lift me as if on a thread going far out.
Lovely poem, Gene! I look forward to the collection when it comes out.
I love the movement into and out of song. Don’t know if you remember me, but when we were at San Francisco State, you directed a program that gave readings in the schools, and I was involved (though not much) in that effort. Even then I admired your ability to write with a craft that did not seem like craft, but simply like reflection.