A different poet

SPIDERLIKE

Spiderlike
the questions spin
pulling answers
from within.

Spiderlike
they swing about
on themselves turned
inside out.

Though to do it
there must be
something solid,
like a tree.

Which is not
a part of you
to attach
the answer to,

Yet, (I spin again)
That tree,
is it really
part of me?

What is out
and what is in?
Spiderlike
the questions spin

Am I here
or am I there?
Statements sparkle
in the air

Answers to
the questions why
hang like sickles
in the sky.

Every one
a question mark
cutting into
what is dark.

Spiderlike
the spinning night
swings upon the
inner light.

Love More or Less
Sydney Carter
1971