
To the gastropod, its glacial pace
is not from sloth, but imagined grace
but natural selections’s cruel portion
has arranged it through torsion
it must wear its own ass on its face.
WDS 2/25/2012
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~ by smashey on January 26, 2012.
Posted in poems
Tags: enthusiasms, poetry
there’s a ‘gastropod/god’ possible rhyme in the longer version
witty and neat