i do not spin because you tell me
nor ill-fated fame and glory.
part of a larger plan, perhaps.
you may find purpose in my trapping methods.
“down with mosquitoes!”, the resounding chant.
i create, i build, nothing more.
my brethren might find me mad as i them.
spinning for a mere snack, a place to call home.
where is your automatism my fellow eight-legged beasts?
erase logic, accept discovery, face unknowns,
then crawl back to your overlooking lair
and note how you’ve altered your universe.
Saint Paul, Minnesota USA
the invisible architect | Matthew Blum