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Showing posts from June, 2015

Octopi - A Poem

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Turns out there is some good poetry about octopi. I recently found a little poem I wrote about them after visiting the Chattanooga Aquarium with my son a few years ago. It is posted here, but if you like the idea of Octopi poems then check out Prairie Octopus, Awake  . Brick red, wrinkled skin    a million tiny cups. Plastic jars in the pebbles    at the bottom of the tank. "She likes to play with them,"    the guide tells us. She really looks beautiful,    in the strange world of water. I can see a fire in those cow eyes,    the midnight black alight. But then I see another one at the top,    this one almost pink. The red is pale and the skin seems    to hang, almost drip. "It's sad," says our guide.    She has laid her eggs and won't eat. This is their life cycle,    she's starving to death."

A Dark Mood

I feel like pus swimming just under the thin membrane at the top of a boil hoping the malicious excitement of my fellow infections will create the right pressure for rupture.