Web Words

A Web waits in its black nest. A thousand and one fledglings cry for attention open throat's as red as blood. I consider not writing anything, the last line I wrote wants to be the next one. I am ignoring, prevaricating, adding cut and paste time capsules to a white field. I distract the uncurling cat of creation, slow down the pace of a tidal pulse with breast-plated breaths. Voices remain un-excavated, but only for a moment, then the banshee wail of the newborn rattle my eye-glass windows and it begins again.