but something already gone glitters
so this soft pen now tries to lift
from the dream of a fish who is
determined to explore the dry
and those waves now gentle reach and
just here set a small movement in
motion that may more or less
resolve into something like melody
though even today as the winds
wild what survives seems sufficient
miracle to keep these sails tight
for a moment while I try to
gather a few parcels of silence
they say it’s worth more than gold
Tag: fish
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It’s just the little lighthouse keeper who
notices and tries to raise some kind kind
of alarm but with arms weak from bad and
bad sleep, cheap food, gives up & decides to
stroll those sentimental streets where gangs ofrival lawyers perform intricate
dances to win the most flavorsome of
clients though all the clouds here smell of sweat,
ketchup, and fermented fish but thesedays while dining we encounter
foul stained fingers in our pies as
markets grow cold and distant in the dawnI didn’t understand his last email
but did you see those girls who just walked by
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There’s this river underground
the birds sing of it as though
it were a gem as though a gem
were something they had interest in
though perhaps my translators
but no don’t let me blame them
this river at times packed
with grey slush moving fast
enough that the fish wish they
had eyes but here on the lost
real estate development the
philosophers have left
with the fabled food trucks
that won’t return
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my boss, a collector of insomniacs walks the halls on stilts, examines every coffee cup, for progress and, avoids the stairs today is Friday, and the small dog always by her side, will have its nails cut, when we hear the yelping we instinctively check our 401(k)s, and count the leaves of the cypress, as our greatest asset, in a moment the weekend will, begin and the dreams we share, shift to images of pirate ships, chained to a monstrous wave of silver fish
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a fish through the hands will write a list of future accomplishments gulp the last tepid tea and remember I’m somehow the narrator though my training is in watch repair once a thriving industry in days when many people were killed by and these days you don’t know who to believe when you take your pants off but that’s the way it’s always been at least when you climb that tree to look at the moon you can just remember the sound of the first sparrow through her curls
other animals 