I know that at some point I should blog about something having to do with Magnetic Poetry and language in general, but right now I'm all about little natural miracles. Today, a wooly bear caterpillar; I hadn't seen one in quite awhile, so he seemed like a long-lost friend. He was wandering across the the middle of a bike path, and after photographing him I plucked him up and placed him out of danger on the other side, roughly in the direction he seemed to be headed. He felt like a fat pipe cleaner curled up in my hand, and tumbled off my fingers down into the dry spring leaves...
There... a bad prose poem about a wooly bear caterpillar! Put that in your corn cob pipe and smoke it!
