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Tony Gentry

The Web – a poem

Updated: May 17

It’s all in how you look at it, isn’t that what they say? Not what you say, it’s how you say it, and even then, who can say?

On a particular day: Maybe bugs got in the flour or your kid pooped his pants the remote control broke

and that guy came to the door. Or the phone rang and rang. She bent to kiss your neck. The dog wouldn’t eat. You stood up then sat down.

How could you have traced or navigated all of that when what we’re taught is my own free will?

Failing to note that strand of web a tactile whisper at your cheek alerts that eight-eyed wonder up the line that never misperceives

to its one pure motive cares not a whit for how but is all about when.

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