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Slug and Suction

Stephanie Jean Campbell

  I’m slow today, I can’t feel my feet.

I managed to stay there before I lleafariated to the skin of a woman. Could I possibly be His Hair—- the follicle is too close to my heart opening. I wonder if the moss kingdom still sticks to my toes.


There I go slipping on a photon. Make more room for the Gold Sun. Yellow a green and a light blue make you.


Fret no more with your delicate toes—- I have escaped the chamber and am on my way to the horn at the alter. We bound the Bull so a affliction might be prevented. Truth is on my lips when the sky is her most milky. Fortunately there is a trail to knowledge when tea becomes freedom. He drove past quickly and I’m tired again. I said “NO” to a child. I must play the piano tishani winter, still. 

Zen per Zazen. The church is at it again. 

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