Composer: Ed Hooke Written: April-October 2020 Recorded:
Commentary Chancing to look up at a corner crevice near the ceiling, I happened to
spot a wasp caught in a spider’s web. While wasps often devour spiders, the tables
had clearly been turned in this instance.
The wasp’s frantic efforts to free itself resulted only in compounding its entanglement
and increasing the certainty of its fate. With the spider hovering patiently a safe
distance away, the wasp’s buzzing gradually became less frequent, its intensity fading...
Corner crevice. Folly found. Web cast. Fastened fast. Nowhere now bound.
Fine fibres fold to tighten their hold as you flounder. Weft, not time, is rewound.
Gossamer grasping glutinous thread. Breath lessening on deathening bed. Prey turned
predator’s prison lair. Prospects preferable any elsewhere.
Frenetic flitter. Sky skate, scarper, skitter. Nest to next nectar necking replay.
Dart in deranged directions. A swarm with multiple reflections
then suddenly removed, unwelcome worlds away.
Recall larvae hatching, insect feed dispatching. Flights of fantasy fulfilled, full
each day. Dreamy dread-drawing drone. Flower to flower to flower flown. Yester-utopia
irretrievably far away.
Reduced reach each weakening wing. What’s left when the deft loses its sting?
Whirled, woven woes.
Dice loaded, death throes, show’s close bringing. Tables turned for die-ning.
1) “I think I just stumbled upon a parallel universe, in which Stanley Unwin's love
child is having a psychedelic freakout!” [Amy Rosa, Planet Earth] 2)
“Disconcerting and intriguing! I like it muchly” [Amaterasu Tetsunotobira, Galway,