They remained on the edges, sitting and standing.
Their heads would tilt, and then re-tilt as they looked at the lights and the people, running along the gangways, disappearing and reappearing in leafen layers. Amongst themselves they would exchange clicks and grumbles, still fixated on the lights.
Confusion would exceed understanding, and in a mix of defiance and bewilderment their rainbow crests would rise before they ran off into the jungle.
the chase for tumbling scraps
On beams of bamboo, peacock spiders manifest prismatic patterns at the arboreal dwellers, circling around to look at the lanterns hanging from gangways and branches before leaping away, attempting to ambush strafing moths.
Light filtered through willow leaves
trapped in eight fold black holes
jumping spider eyes
No mouths. No ears. No noses. Only eye sockets.
Voices silent. Sullen clicks transmit thoughts.
Lines of red and blacked, marked with dots and angles of white. Edges decorated with deinonychus feathers.
From distance, in anonymity they watch the sky rafters. No approach, no communication, just watching.
Curves of light
from wire cages
wrapped in dried leaf husks.
against arcane trunks
Degradation crept in.
Little things. Twain frays. Binds of thatch loosen. Rot advances in silence.
Maintenance slips as survival is clamoured for. The deinonychus begin to raid, no longer afraid of the settlers. They co-ordinate attacks, start to utilise encirclements ,ambushes and delays, communicated by feathered flashes (red rises in unison, replied in green, high signed in blue – two by two groups would forge through the undergrowth).
Search parties now work in randomness. Still, reptilian instincts have not dulled.
Gangways come crashing down, splintering on branches. It all fragments, people drift apart, who is alive and who is dead is not known – tangible links are fractured and people can no longer speak to others.
The outside knows nothing. The Sky Raft will not end with a bang. It will end with a whimper.
(The last gargle of a throat, punctured by a sickle claw.)
There’s only flashes. Spectrums sifting from gap to gap.
Wisps of rainbow dance between leaf layers. The same colours in quicksilver patterns in synchronization. Yellow replied with blue, flickering back and forth with green, shut down with red.
The colours swirl, blur, coming together amidst the noise of shredding and crunching.
At the moment the sun begins descending
coinciding with the ascension of the moon
candle flame dances
flicker and quiver
of thatch and wood.
hastens to a plunge
mirrored by the lunar eminence
the Pillar of Pagoda’s
its hanging lanterns of paper and glass
wrap chimerical tapers
in the growing darkness
form bleeds into abstraction.
The sun vanishes
triumphant gibbous stands alone
the gangways light up
sequenced by the tree house
the forest, the mountains, the rivers
pulled into the abyss
the lights remain
a short distance
the hollow men
ashen light eyes
gaze at the
illuminated bridge of lanterns
the Sky Raft
floating in night tide.
“Will not end with a bang” from TS Eliots the Hollow Men: http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/784/
First picture found here: http://imgfave.com/search/peacock%20spider
Second picture found here: http://www.arkinspace.com/2011/04/peacock-spider-australias-show-off.html
Third picture found here: http://jomaximiano.blogspot.com/2010/09/shocking-customs-die-hard.html