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.
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.
Oh that I may never know how change the moons,
Or hear the voice of busy common sense!
(o)
:)
Marvelous.
I really like that yawn and the roar of the body’s own surf. A perfect description.
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.
Thanks for the comments, y’all. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep going at this level…
Hi, Dave. I just discovered this blog and I’m very appreciative of your observations and photos.
Nice slug shot!
Hi Larry – thanks for the comment. I just followed the link back to your own blog, and really enjoyed myself.
I assume “at this level” doesn’t refer to a slug’s pace, from the looks of things around here!
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!