From Unpredictable Hue, published in 2019.


I sit
in a chair. I fish.
The rush of sibilances
across the room while
I strain to grasp them
squeeze them into hard clear shapes
I can hold on to
but they evade me
slipping through my hearing
again and again. The frustration
of fishing and the fish glimpsed
through the water
not caught and
instead laughing at me
while darting away through
the weeds growing up from the mud
those sibilances promising such a meal
and giving up so little.

I sit across the room
and I cast my line.


5 thoughts on “Fishing

  1. Sometimes you just gotta cast your line into the water again and again and just go with whatever you catch. Put them all in the bucket and you can throw back the ones you don’t want later! That’s my style of composition…er, fishing.

  2. Yes. I am also in this section of the crowd – give it a try, see what happens. Sometimes good, sometimes oops, all of them worth something even if just the fun of catching them…

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