The Slug
A Haiku in One Moment
a slug moves across
the flat rock leaving a thin
wet line behind it
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon
Keep reading
More stories from Tim Carmichael and writers in Poets and other communities.
HE not WE
They drop the bombs And claim we all had agreed It's nothing but lies
By Mollie Harrisonabout 16 hours ago in Poets
Lightning Never Strikes Twice
The distant rumble, the sudden deluge, the crescendo of sound, the flash of light, the explosive energy — it never gets old. I became an amateur storm chaser about two years ago. My wife, Cindy suggested it. Sort of. She said, "Alex, you know this cancer is killing me. I've come to terms with that, but you're smothering me. Go join a band, write a book, or become a storm chaser, for all I care. I love you, but you need a hobby."
By Julie Lacksonen7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Wait, where’s its shell? That snail is naked (or a slug), and ooh, stepping on one barefoot is worse than (though not as painful as) a leggo.