maybe emptiness within creates “SLOW”

imagine how difficult it is to see behind

or underneath

or walk on two feet

or hide that egg…

but thinking

in a self contained chamber


a unique privilege!


Health Care Proxy


Quenby at 4 and a perfect 41 today


Wonder Woman Pro

transparent plane to go-slow

mama’s advocate


Quicksilver Speed

Quicksilver Speed

I am practiced with the Internet, not a genius.

My eighty year old friends are beginners, not idiots.

Relearning one’s touches with one’s fingertips on a tablet is “light years” away from plunking on a steel typewriter.

At the Apple store, my knuckles struck a command

while my fingers selected a teeny icon

and the iPad rushed to comply with my errant knuckle.

My location disappeared, and I’m lost.

The fog descends.


I slump in my seat while the apple tutor explains what my knuckle did.

He resets the screen with a tiny tap in the precise spot needed.

I realize I need plenty of pointing at precise spots, with precise pressure, at precise angles, for precise duration.

All these touches can happen with my naked finger or a stylus, which doesn’t slide as easily as the finger.

No need to panic.

Between taps, I can take my time to discern the next command.

Discerning can be slow.

Then the iPad will speedily comply.

And I can once again discern the next path.

iPad speeds. etc etc

I’m caring. The tablets fast. What a team we are!

After I care, I share! With YOU!




It’s time for Annika:
“His name is Lily Pad”

It’s time for Oliver:
“His name is Lily Pad”

It’s time for Annika:
“Bikes go fast
Bikes go slow
Annika, Oliver go go go”

It’s time for Oliver:
“Bikes go fast
Bikes go slow
Oliver, Annika go go go”


A three year old compliment for a five year old model.

Tongue Twister #36 Distance 7

Fawn to Doe

Tame to wild
Held to lift
Small to tall
Slow to swift.

Milk to bark
Bleat to nod
Nest to field
Soft to hard

Babe to Doe
Sniff to know
Shift to surge
Rest to go

Riddle#21 Darkness

purple world
Still the darkness sings its song:
Slow, gentle, silhouettes
Etch to dusk, coil o’er eyelids
Shadowed feasts; weathered fetes.

This poem is a response to a prompt from David Harrison:

%d bloggers like this: