I like it but I think the metaphor at the end is just too blantent. Try being a little more subtle. 6

i watched her, too. a few days ago. she was deft, and certain, and jerky in her haste. i could have broken her. but, as above, so below, yes?

be well, thom. i go by <~> now.

xo,
sue.

staring at a spider you saw a spide rin front of you, who would of thought.

Other than that well put

Well there goes my last nerve. This poem is so incredibly contrived and forced it's practically comical. Some how you've succeeded in sucking the juice of my interest in one of our planets most mysteriously fascinating creatures (spiders) from my life permanently. Everyline in your poem is defining the absolute of something absolutely undefinable. Nobody needs you to tell them the fucking obvious. Every person alive has this story in one way shape or form, but my friend there is only 1 Charlotte's web and this is not it.all that you've mentioned azbove is a given we all have made that same symbolical connection. Why not dig deeper and make us earn the poetry. WHY! damnit, it pisses me off when poets turn fucking turn mutual of Omoha in monotone and black and white. And please don't be sensitive about my critic here friend. There is know need to be the best poetry is Poker not blind stud. Because, that's what you're doing here purposely showing us your cards, and my friend that only works if you are rich, and you're not, and I mean rich in the sense of 'a damn brilliant writer' Someone, that can explain the simplist and most mundane situations in the most beautiful way definable. Hemmingway, Joyce, Wolfe. The bottom line is you don't have the language to play stud poker with a spider poem buddy. That shit is sacred, and should be treated so, and I know you feel like you've done your bit and your justified on the subject, but you left out the essential magic connection between us and arachnids, and focused on the known taken for granteds. So I can only give you a 6.

And those stupid fucking ~ ~ curly things sure doesn't fucking help your case, nor does your inventive way of spelling tom or when you wrote it (date time etc) unless you're dead or moonlighting from politics.

Also, why post a poem if you cannot respond sensibly to a critique. I raised some striking issues to you about where your poetry is going bad, and you respond like a child. I offer structural suggestions and basically, give you your solution on a silver platter, and a formula to work with to improve your poetry since we share mutual friends, and you insult me and disrespect me, over your half assed heinous mutilation of arachnids? You're a fool. There are people that would pay good money to have me give them a creative boost and share some of my techniques. You should listen to better poets when they share advice, it's the only way to learn, not act like a oversensitive spoiled degenerate, for future reference. The poets life is no place for the sensitive & or the spoiled charity case, my friend, remember that if fucking anything I've said. You can burn that one to your pink little brain old man.