A whole poem About a spider plant? Who would Read it, anyway? Yet--what a Challenge: To narrow down One's point of view, To just one Billowing basketful Of greenery! The metaphor is there: Slender, lissome leaves, Arching like Verdant meteors, Streaking forth From one central sun-- These are our Thousand thousand Lives, each Arranged in pirouette About a Master Soul Too deep to see. And, randomly Shooting forth As well, are Stalks whose end- Points explode Into baby-souls With lives Of their own-- These are Our most important lives By which we Leave the Universe (And ourselves) Forever changed. So, spider plant, Whose soul are you? And on whose stalk Does my own Paltry life Precariously cling?
1/25/81 - 2/17/81
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