The Insult

When you called me a

pea brain

it was the most colossal

laud you could have given.

Peas are Einsteins in a

shell, wise enough to

swell within a pod, knowing

together they’ll survive,

waving to the turnips

as they ascend their soaring

trellis;

a height that even

the cauliflower—our cerebrum’s

doppelgänger—

cannot fathom.

The Theravada

monks are quite astonished

at their savvy—

their gift of rolling

off a spoon no matter

how mindful they may be

and they should know—

chanting mantras

as a weeny ball of green

outwits their many

mala beads;

always out-of-reach,

something they cannot

grasp—a koan while under

the fridge;

a conundrum they will

ponder

with every neuron of

enlightened genius.

Andreas Gripp

December 19, 2025

RF Image