Eight of Cups

The eight of cups –
an octopus balancing
multi-tasks; I juggle
fog, attempt
to calibrate logistics
but instincts
are dull-edged,
my tentacles lacking
suction – will slither
back into hiding.

(Tuesday, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

32 thoughts on “Eight of Cups”

  1. Having just watched a documentary about the amazing octopus, I can relate to your poem, V.J. Just remember that we don’t have eight arms and don’t have to take on any more than our two arms can handle. 🙂

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