Slow

slug 1

Who cares what
the slow
guy thinks?
I watched a slug
gliding over a rock
on its single
foot: water
flowing uphill,
Aladdin’s carpet.
I like how,
during a yawn,
my head fills
with the roar of
its own surf.
So much better than
those hiccups
called anger, pride,
shame,
or the fever
with which
my poor sam
pee-body — as
the sparrows say —
tries to rid itself
of that virus
love.

slug 2

11 Comments


  1. This really works.

    Some deep listening there, and sharply edited too.

    I’m not crazy about the list-making (“anger, pride, shame”) but I’m reaching a bit here, because I really like the poem as a whole, and even that bit sort of works.

    I love the single foot, and Alladin, and the yawn, and the hiccups. You pack a lot into a little poem.

    Reply

  2. Oh that I may never know how change the moons,
    Or hear the voice of busy common sense!

    Reply

  3. Hey, robin andrea stole my comment! (Though to be technical the poem spoke of the head’s own surf.)

    I also liked the slug’s single foot.

    The whole thing — a great contrast.

    Reply

  4. Thanks for the comments, y’all. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep going at this level…

    Reply

  5. Hi, Dave. I just discovered this blog and I’m very appreciative of your observations and photos.

    Nice slug shot!

    Reply

  6. Hi Larry – thanks for the comment. I just followed the link back to your own blog, and really enjoyed myself.

    Reply

  7. I assume “at this level” doesn’t refer to a slug’s pace, from the looks of things around here!

    Reply

  8. I used to post two or even three times a day, so yeah, I do tend to think of a post a day as a slow and stately pace!

    Reply

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