I got a new poetry book, a little anthology called Finding the Way Home, and when I was out walking early this morning I heard crickets singing in the bushes and it made me think of “Bugs in a Bowl” by David Budbill.

The poem begins with the words of the Chinese poet Han Shan, “We’re just like bugs in a bowl.”

And it ends this way:

“Sit in the bottom of the bowl, head in your hands,
cry, moan, feel sorry for yourself.

Or. Look around. See your fellow bugs.
Walk around.

Say, Hey, how you doin’?
Say, Nice bowl!”

It is a beautiful bowl, isn’t it?
I greet you.

Reactions: 94
Comments: 8

Original Post