in your spiderweb
easy bake oven
your oeuvre

ride across town
on a tandem bike
all by myself
cook my dinner
in an easy bake oven
listen to the music
of a greeting card

did the dishes with help of the deers
sealed by doors with the help of the mouse
let the roaches rest in my ears
and gave the spider domain of my mouth
and your oeuvre rests in her spiderweb
pull a piece out and it all comes apart
what if we did like Nietzsche said
and the lightning destroy our art

bound to a chair
unable to think or speak
but able to walk freely
through the corridors of dreams
captors staring willfully
examing my pupils
and arteries
I was bleeding but i was only bleeding
in a dream
bound to a chair with nothing to do
unable to eat and unable to sleep
but able to lap up the
residue of dreams
publishers standing
all around
notepads in hand
with nothing to write down