49 Comments

I definitely prefer the first simpler version. It allows me to enter the poem more freely, gives me space to do my own imagining. I love the part about being a storyteller, and that last line about rue and regret. And joy. The joy of spinning such fragile beauty from one's body, as we writers do with our webs of words. The long patient wait to see who or what may be captured in our web. The long thirsty drink when we do. What do we rue? What do we regret? How many masterpieces go unmarvelled?

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I too saw the “spiders tell their dreams at two A.M.” article and was weblessly floored.

These two drafts/poems are each amazingly astonishing.

I found that the first was ‘easier’ for me to read in a ‘flow’.

The second, I will admit to getting more caught up in the web of words vs ease of body surfing right on through to the other side.

Like them both; prefer original version.

Love ‘evil’ adverbs.

Jeff Hartzer

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Aug 23, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

I was moved by the simplicity of the first draft. The second seems a little discordant, but that might be your intention. I do think the last two stanzas of the second draft are perfect and the line about weaving a parachute and leaping off the ledge is my favorite. Are you working on a third draft?

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I truly enjoyed the turn in tone at the end of second draft! It left me hopeful!

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Aug 19, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

awesome!

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Aug 19, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

Oh gosh I have a recurring ritual of pretending I am climbing to the top of the highest building and then after looking out at the city I take the elevator back down. ( This puts me to sleep). Does that mean I was a spider in my past life? Or that I am a spider human?🕷️🦹‍♀️ Seriously I love the whimsey and imagination in both drafts. And I hope your tooth problem heals swiftly!

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Sherman, I don't know enough about poetry to make an intelligent comment ,but I laughed our loud several times as I read the second draft. It's funny, it's creative and so imaginative. Thank you for this! I hope you're feeling better.

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Loved them both. The last line of the second draft did it for me.

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Aug 18, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

Liked that sonnet (predictably?)--also the 2nd draft, though to me it sprawls a bit. On the + side, it inspired the first poem I've come up with in weeks--"Arachnophobia." I've been in prose mode lately. Also in deck-repair mode (scraping, painting, inept carpentry). Take care!

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I think Robert the Bruce may have had similar thoughts, if legendary accounts contain a grain of truth! But I’ll wot thee he’d appreciate Sherman’s spidery reflections and poetry.

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This is wonderful...I love the second draft - I love seeing your process, that it's the second draft I am loving. My favorite imagery was the spider spinning a parachute and leaping.

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Oh, I like this, the second draft more than the first, but it needs more specificity to capture the spider character. The "eight shoulder shrug" is ny favorite line too. Are the spider's musings malevolent? Surely his dreams are more colorful than the earthbound worm who just tunnels blandly along at one speed: he can twirl and spin and climb and capture and terrify, a real acrobat/architect enlivening my laurel hedge with aerial techniques unimaginable to lesser insects who clump together on the ground like the battalion of tiny single-minded ants ganged for destruction of the limp kibbles left in the bowl for the peripatetic cats... that spider is a loner who taunts from several dimensions. Keep working on this to capture her cryptic character.

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Aug 17, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

Yes - I'm also a member of the "eight-shoulder shrug" fan club!

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Aug 17, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

For me, this poem is about the poet’s awareness and consciousness. How we can use our minds to reach one another.

How is this a poem and not an essay?

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"Don't worry spiders

I keep house

casually"

-Issa

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Aug 17, 2022Liked by Sherman Alexie

I love spiders. I work in a sawmill, and so they are everywhere, floating through the air on their translucent webs, spinning webs on pylons a hundred feet from the shore. We never tore down their webs in the shack we called home; they ate all the other bigs. A great poem!

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