A Critical Mass

Some critical mass of spider web

drifted above the bottomland today

northwest of town:

staring into the haze-warm blue

of a still noon sky so big and close

the farthest distance of the stratosphere

merged with the air before my eyes,

the faded edges of the dome

the whites of a single eye,

the deepening gradient of blue the iris,

the zenith the darkened clarity of pupil,

like a god's-eye peering

into space peering into me,

the inter-distance of floaters

in my ocular humor, random photons

refracting into rods and cones, and yellow

rays defusing in the air above me

as I rested on the lawn and saw

strands of whispered white, flakes of  silk,

gossamer shards essing, twisting,

slide-sailing slips of shimmer,

some like surging semen in liquid blue,

the bloodless brilliance of life itself,

others plummeting, failed parachutes, all

in silent resolution with the ground.