Step by step, This lobe finned fish Crawled across land; Radiated, was culled; Grew thumb on hand; Heard, listened, spoke; Asked what it is to be me; Grasped stick in pincer grip, Scratched images in the sand.
Step by step, This lobe finned fish Crawled across land; Radiated, was culled; Grew thumb on hand; Heard, listened, spoke; Asked what it is to be me; Grasped stick in pincer grip, Scratched images in the sand.
Excellent poem. Original? Up there with “nothing vultured” IMO 🙂
The poem is original but I make no claims regarding its quality. It says something of my own sense of self for what it is worth, that we are set in an evolutionary context, that we have ideas and can make meaningul marks on the landscape. All that transitory art over thousands of years as people sat round a fire, talking in low voices, drawing in charcoal on stones or scraping lines in the dirt.
As for “nothing vultured” is that a poem or a saying like toucan live as one, or ostrich in time saves nine?
give you a finch and you’ll make a smile 😉
well done!
once again, thanks for dropping by and commenting.
Oh wow… dynamic charcoal sketches
Thanks Kitty