The spider in my head

The spider in my head has spun a web between my senses.

Sturdy, glistening strands cross cranial canyons

Bridging cities, each bursting with perceptive possibility.

Silent friend, tying me together with silk and

my world is caught like flies in her trap, whos impact pulls

at a network of anchors. A net that transforms

canary-yellow wildflowers into a symphony of violins and the

morning sky into a heavy, velvet cape. I care for the architect

of these neural webs and together we explore the beaten track,

away from the green vapour rumbles of city traffic and sirens

that sound like sticky, orange syrup. She is fed by wading through

the crystal waters of lorikeet songs. The juiciest morsels are caught

in wild havens, meditating on the sweet chai groans

of heavy footsteps on soft sand. On the best days, we summit a peak

and watch the sun fall off the earth to reveal a horizon of electric stars

that ring into the void like brass bells on blue feathers.