(The) Web

A string vibrates,
a thousand hairs raise  
   on the flat plain of reception.
 
To run free on a mind with great abandon
     a contrition traces it's steps
         linking it's contrivances
     making dark seem light.
 
Spun sugar, spiderlike and
     unwoven at great speed;
  a neural acceleration,
     a locus unwinding.
 
All praise this intricacy
     tied to my elation,
        palpating my senses.
All praise this flytrap
     forming forevers traceability.
 
Sweet hubris of winds failure
     to waver anchored vacillations of thought.
 
A mind of merging composed
        of tripwires,
   multiplicities of replication,
        complicities of conscience.  
 
To not be encrypted
     here in your web of entrapment
         forever linked to your domain.
 
                     .....
  
 
         #DeniseLevertov
 
       (a non-entry)