This Thursday's bit:

This is the line I drop to you.

The string of letters

each as fragile--

as brittle as beetlewing.

Each keeping its perfect poise on the page,

Obediently walking the invisible tightwire

  with bravely linking seraphs

A line to lift you from whatever mire has mired you

To pull you through whatever murk you plow through

your hand outstretched and groping

for such a thread as this.

Here is the story I spin for you

all knotted round itself.

A handhold.

Slip your desperate fingers through it.

Wrap its tangle around your chest

and follow it to me.