Fish
The cop holds me up like a fish;
he feels the huge bones
surrounding my eyes,
and he runs a thumb under them,
lifting my eyelids
as if they were
envelopes filled with the night.
Now he turns
my head back and forth, gently,
until I'm so tame and still
I could be a tiny, plastic
skull left on the
dashboard of a junked car.
By now he's so sure of me
he chews gum,
and drops his flashlight to his side;
he could be cleaning a trout
while the pines rise into the darkness,
though tonight trout
are freezing into bits of stars
under the ice. When he lets me go
I feel numb. I feel like
a fish burned by his touch, and turn
and slip into the cold
night rippling with neons,
and the razor blades
of the poor,
and the torn mouths on posters.
Once, I thought even through this
I could go quietly as a star turning over and over
in the deep truce of its light.
Now, I must
go on repeating the last, filthy
words on the lips
of this shunken head
shining out of its death in the moon—
until trout surface
with their petrified, round eyes,
and the stars begin moving.
poem by Larry Levis
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Related quotes
First things first for my friend Ben
The moon is shining on the lake
where trout are rising after flies
this tells me that it’s time to fish.
The gentle art of casting flies
correctly as my father taught,
has filled full many a supper dish
A trout that’s fried in bacon grease
Has a unique taste all its own,
If I were hungry I would wish.
For a fresh trout upon my plate
A feast I would appreciate.
But first you have to catch your fish.
28-May-07
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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It Was My Uncle Soul Sifting
it was my uncle soul
sifting in a leaned back
all the way chair down
by the old family lake
taking trout we spent
all day chasing through
reeds and lilies, dodging
loons and other birds
trying to outmaneuver
them in their own home
it was my uncle soul
sifting, lifting trout
entrails, rinsing off
blood and fish and dirt
in the cold lake water
telling me it used to
be a game of his, how
many fish he could trick
before the sun set.
it was my uncle soul
sifting, telling me his
favorite night was years
ago and how he had
only caught one lone
rainbow and was
sitting there, gutting
the heart out listening
to the radio the night
Roy Eldridge died.
it was my uncle soul
sifting, saying he forgot
how many fish he caught
just sat there listening
to old dead Roy play
while the fish cooked
over his burnt coal fire
it was the only way he
knew how to say
goodbye he said, and
tonight it’s me out
there soul sifting, lifting
bits of crumbled dirt and
dust, feeling a part of me
is out there still, the
big blue welling up
inside you, the hole
gone and filled up
with sky.
poem by Ben Paynter
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Stars and the Moon
Stars and the Moon
Why do you come so soon?
I lay there unable to shut my eyes
This something I despise
Stars and the Moon
Behind my eyelids there is a dream that awaits
My head spins, but i am not elate
Stars and the Moon
It's a horrible dream
The one about that night just bursting at the seam
My eyes are heavy now
As if I'm forced to obey, at it's feet, I bow
Stars and the Moon
I can feel my body tense
Instantaneously pulled into a trance quite immense
Stars and the Moon
I hear the screams of that night
That abhorrent deed, I tried to put up a fight
Stars and the Moon
I hate when you come
day and sun is my time to feel numb
poem by Naomi Deluca
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The Catch
You take me to the restaurant where one
plays God over a fish tank. The fat trout
pace their green cage, waiting to be taken
out of an element. Who knows what they know?
There are thirteen in a tank meant
for goldfish. I don¹t care which one I eat.
But the waiter expects a performance,
con brio. This is a ritual
solemn as wine-tasting or the Last Judgement.
Eating is never so simple as hunger.
Between the appetite and its satisfaction
falls the net, groping blindly in dark water.
The fish startle and thrash. You make your catch,
flourishing a bit for the waiter
so as not to be thought a peasant. You force
air into the trout's gills as if he were Adam,
and send him squirming toward the kitchen
to be born. Then it's my turn. I surprise
myself with my dexterity, almost
enjoying the game. A liter of wine
later, the fish return, foppishly dressed
in mushrooms and pimentos, their eyes
dreamily hazed. Darling, I am drunk. I watch you pluck
the trout's ribs out of your perfect teeth.
poem by Erica Jong
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Yes, the Fish Music
A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Fish And Shadow
The salmon-trout drifts in the stream,
The soul of the salmon-trout floats over the stream
Like a little wafer of light.
The salmon moves in the sun-shot, bright shallow sea. . . .
As light as the shadow of the fish
that falls through the water,
She came into the large room by the stair,
Yawning a little she came with the sleep still upon her.
'I am just from bed. The sleep is still in my eyes.
'Come. I have had a long dream.'
And I: That wood?
'And two springs have passed us.'
'Not so far, no, not so far now,
There is a place but no one else knows it
A field in a valley . . .
Qu'ieu sui avinen,
Ieu lo sai,'
She must speak of the time
Of Arnaut de Mareuil, I thought, 'qu'ieu sui avinen.’
Light as the shadow of the fish
That falls through the pale green water.
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Dao Of Fishing
Does a trout know it lives in water?
A lake her own watery universe,
where survival depends on speed
and an ability to find sustenance
The trout prays to her fish god;
“Lord god I hunger…feed me”
As if magic,
a fat worm drifts down from above
Instinctively the eager trout greedily
gulps down the wiggler
She then feels something sharp
in her gullet, then something
pulling her upward
She struggles;
Twisting and writhing
She’s pulled to waters surface
where she desperately jumps
It’s no use; the pull is too strong
Giving up she relaxes,
as a green web scoops down
and roughly encircles her
She gasps for breath in this dry
hostile alien environment
She hears a strange sound;
“Dad, ain’t she a beauty”
A beefy hand grasps the trout
Something cold is thrust down her throat
She feels the sharp hook dislodge and pull free
She makes a weak attempt to wiggle free,
just as another beefy hand holding something
wooden strikes downward…
She’s losing consciousness, but fights the
looming blackness long enough to think;
“God why hast thou forsaken me”
Then silence…
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Stars In The Night
Look, look at the stars
How brilliant they are
How can they be shining now?
When hope is so far
Look, look how they shine
These cruelest of stars
What fire inspires them,
What faith is it fires them?
Darkness grows,the world turns cold
And still, there glows the light
Heaven knows what hope they hold tonight
Look,look how they shine
These stars in the night
The darker the night becomes
The brighter their light becomes
Chill winds wail
The tempest blues
and clouds asail the sky
Through the veil,
The stars refuse to die
In this world of darkest night
Where hope is hurled away
There they are
And still, there's light
Oh,so far, but will they
There they lift our hearts
As we lift our eyes
Are we fools to see
The harmony that fills the sky
Look,there's the light
Stars In The Night
The Stars In The Night
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well Take The Night
Roy orbison/will jennings/j.d.souther
Baby its hard sometimes to wake and face this life everyday.
Sometimes its bad enough to stop and through the good all away.
Tonight lets put the world aside and let go toghether.
The night is one place we can hide in each others arms.
Dream on forever.
Come on baby,and well take the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is right.
Dreams are shining in a magic light.
Come with me,oh well take the night.
You and me,oh well take the night.
Baby, well take the night.
Look up and let the night unfold.
Hold on to the feeling.
Reach out and let it touch your soul.
And give in to love,love is believing.
Come on baby,and well take the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is right.
Dreams are shining in a magic light.
Come with me,oh well take the night.
You and me,oh well take the night.
If everystar should fall.
And tomorrow lose all meaning.
We would still have had it all.
Its locked away inside our hearts.
There for the dreaming.
Come on baby,and well tale the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is bright.
Dreams are shining in the magic light.
Come with me,oh well take the night.
You and me, oh well take the night.
Come on baby, and well take the night.
While the stars are willing and the moon is bright.
Dream are shining in a magic light.
Come with me, oh well take the night.
You and me,yeah well take the night.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Fish
The city is asleep.
Midnight. The enormous sky is full of stars.
Only a bright fish is coming out of the mirror.
My eyes see only him.
With silence unbroken my eyes say:
O fish, are you Harun ar-Rashid, in your nightgown
Are you wandering- from the palace to the thatched cottage,
Watching how the wheel of stars is whirling round and round?
O fish, where are you going?
The city is asleep.
Only a born-blind singer along with thieves, harlots, and police is awake,
And a strange silent fish. O moving fish.
My eyes see only him.
With silence unbroken my eyes say:
O fish, are you the very eyes of mine?
Midnight. The wheel of nature is whirling round and round on the waterfall.
O fish, where are you going?
Translation by S M Maniruzzaman
poem by Abdul Mannan Syed
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Seemingly endless
As the stars are shining at night
So it shines in my eyes the tear.
In silence, I can hold you tight
And I can feel our love, my dear.
When the stars touch the light of sun,
While they sparkle in the night,
I lay in my bed like a nun.
I feel my sadness and His sight.
I wait everything you give me,
I feel your deep thrill, when it rains,
You make me what I want to be,
A part of you, without deep pains.
As yellow stars are so endless,
The body is ephemerally.
While our feelings are timeless,
Our happiness is divinely.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Freak Of The World
Dont want the sun to shine upon my face
And i see your eyes and their glazy haze
Your lips dont move
But i hear what you're saying
I look outside through the razor blades
And i crawl and i scrape and i feel for you
But there's nothing
There's nothing that i can do
Im a freak
Im the freak of the world
Im a freak
Freak of the world
Stars are shining oh so bright
And i dont think everything's alright
And i can't wake up
Cuz i dream all night
Yeah you're in my way
And i can't get bye
And i beg and i cheat and i steal for you
But there's nothing
There's nothing that i can do
Im a freak
Im the freak of the world
Im the freak of the world
Im the freak of the world
And there's nothing i can say
And there's nthing you can do
And there's nothing i can say or do
Dont want the sun to shine upon my face
And i see your eyes and their glazy haze
Your lips dont move but i hear what you're saying
I look out side through the razor blades
And i try
(through the razor blades)
And i scream
(through the razor blades)
I can see your face
Im the freak of the world
Im the freak of the world
Im the freak of the world
And there is nothing i can say
And there is nothing you can do
And there is nothing i can say or do
Caz im the freak of the world
Im a freak
Of the world
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As You Humiliate Yourself
you volunteer to shrink a little bit
like a rotten pumpkin to
let her know that you also know how to die
and find a way to reach her
in her own death.
you let go all that is fluid something that is liquid
you make these
turn to gas so you also have a way of telling her
that you also know how to disappear
she may close her eyes in anger because of you
she may like to abuse you and not talk to you as you gaze to find out
the reason why the stars are not out tonight
why there is not a single shining moon
you are so patient waiting like a fisherman with his bait
to catch a fish tonight
out there in the deep sea in desolation
you give her time to change and to understand your longing
for stars
your thirst for the light of the moon
it will be painful, you have humiliated yourself in all these
shrinking of your arms and hands
you become like a tiny dot in humility to the line of
bold letters and exclamation marks
you give up, you get out of the bed and stopped staring at the ceiling
you open the door of this cold room and you close it again
to leave her
still closing her eyes keeping her tears from falling.
it is over you say. it is over. it is too late. another door has been locked
and this time you do not wish anyone in.
a wise man sometimes likes to use
a period.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Even The Stars Are Cold Tonight
EVEN THE STARS ARE COLD TONIGHT
Even the stars are cold tonight
Little bits of light in the distance
What can they mean?
Once they were bright hopes for other homes
Now they are hells of
Heat and cold and darkness and death-
Why couldn’t our eyes be the only truth
And why do we know so much
Which always hurts us?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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An Eagle's Life
An Eagle soars high above,
Skimming seas, lakes and cove,
Piercing, sharp, an Eagle's eye,
Swooping down, did spy,
Swimming trout en route,
Mother Nature's food.
She swooped down and without a doubt,
The majestic eagle has just caught a trout.
With one swipe, her claw did grab,
A fleshy trout, hardly a flap.
Red Colored Stars
I'll open my eyes, and a new day will come
I'll see Red Colored Stars in the sky and in your eyes
Fast away the ugly, just one more bill to pay
All the past will be moon dust that flies, from where we lay
I can feel it, I can feel
Red Colored Stars in my hands are the stones that were cast
They left us with scars, reminders
There's a wall in my way, there's a war in my way
Tales of love that consumed me
Hide from the fight
I'm a slave in my head, I'm awake in my bed
Tell the worms they can soon eat tonight, eat tonight
I can feel
Red Colored Stars in my hands are the stones that were cast
They left us with scars, reminders
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Sleep, there's a wall in my way
There's a war in my way
Sleep, there's a wall in my way
There's a war in my head
Start our cars and be around, there's room enough for you and me
When the sun comes up, we'll leave them down and stare into the dream
Red Colored Stars in my hands are the stones that were cast
They left us with scars, reminders
I can feel it
I can feel it
I can feel it
I can feel it
song performed by by Ours
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Star
Orbison dees
The evening sun is falling that old blue moon is calling
My guardian angel in the sky came through
To help all my dreams come true theres a new star.
Theres a new star coming tonight, theres a new love burning
So bright for a new star of love is born between the earth and sky
For you and i.
Theres a new star
The moon was dull, the sky was cold and gray
There were no stars to light my lonely way
And then I traced the lovelight in your eyes
To a new star twinkling in the sky burning bright, day and night
Now Im alright, now were together, lovers forever
A new star, a new star to light our way
Theres a new star burning for us, theres a new world turning for us
Theres a new star sparkling in the sky.
Theres a new star shining somewhere and we know the reason why
Theres a new star way up there for a true love
A new star for our love will never die.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Part 6 of Trout Fishing in America
THE HUNCHBACK TROUT
The creek was made narrow by little green trees that grew
too close together. The creek was like 12, 845 telephone
booths in a row with high Victorian ceilings and all the doors
taken off and all the backs of the booths knocked out.
Sometimes when I went fishing in there, I felt just like a
telephone repairman, even though I did not look like one. I
was only a kid covered with fishing tackle, but in some
strange way by going in there and catching a few trout, I
kept the telephones in service. I was an asset to society.
It was pleasant work, but at times it made me uneasy.
It could grow dark in there instantly when there were some
clouds in the sky and they worked their way onto the sun.
Then you almost needed candles to fish by, and foxfire in
your reflexes.
Once I was in there when it started raining. It was dark
and hot and steamy. I was of course on overtime. I had that
going in my favor. I caught seven trout in fifteen minutes.
The trout in those telephone booths were good fellows.
There were a lot of young cutthroat trout six to nine inches
long, perfect pan size for local calls. Sometimes there
were a few fellows, eleven inches or so--for the long dis-
tance calls.
I've always liked cutthroat trout. They put up a good fight,
running against the bottom and then broad jumping. Under
their throats they fly the orange banner of Jack the Ripper.
Also in the creek were a few stubborn rainbow trout, sel-
dom heard from, but there all the same, like certified pub-
lic accountants. I'd catch one every once in a while. They
were fat and chunky, almost as wide as they were long. I've
heard those trout called "squire" trout.
It used to take me about an hour to hitchhike to that creek.
There was a river nearby. The river wasn't much. The creek
was where I punched in. Leaving my card above the clock
I'd punch out again when it was time to go home.
I remember the afternoon I caught the hunchback trout.
A farmer gave me a ride in a truck. He picked me up at
a traffic signal beside a bean field and he never said a word
to me.
His stopping and picking me up and driving me down the
road was as automatic a thing to him as closing the barn
door, nothing need be said about it, but still I was in motion
traveling thirty-five miles an hour down the road, watching
houses and groves of trees go by, watching chickens and
mailboxes enter and pass through my vision.
Then I did not see any houses for a while. "This is where
I get out, " I said.
The farmer nodded his head. The truck stopped.
"Thanks a lot, " I said.
The farmer did not ruin his audition for the Metropolitan
Opera by making a sound. He just nodded his head again.
The truck started up. He was the original silent old farmer.
A little while later I was punching in at the creek. I put
my card above the clock and went into that long tunnel of
telephone booths.
I waded about seventy-three telephone booths in. I caught
two trout in a little hole that was like a wagon wheel. It was
one of my favorite holes, and always good for a trout or two.
I always like to think of that hole as a kind of pencil
sharpener. I put my reflexes in and they came back out with
a good point on them. Over a period of a couple of years, I
must have caught fifty trout in that hole, though it was only
as big as a wagon wheel.
I was fishing with salmon eggs and using a size 14 single
egg hook on a pound and a quarter test tippet. The two trout
lay in my creel covered entirely by green ferns ferns made
gentle and fragile by the damp walls of telephone booths.
The next good place was forty-five telephone booths in.
The place was at the end of a run of gravel, brown and slip-
pery with algae. The run of gravel dropped off and disap-
peared at a little shelf where there were some white rocks.
One of the rocks was kind of strange. It was a flat white
rock. Off by itself from the other rocks, it reminded me
of a white cat I had seen in my childhood.
The cat had fallen or been thrown off a high wooden side-
walk that went along the side of a hill in Tacoma, Washing-
ton. The cat was lying in a parking lot below.
The fall had not appreciably helped the thickness of the
cat, and then a few people had parked their cars on the cat.
Of course, that was a long time ago and the cars looked dif-
ferent from the way they look now.
You hardly see those cars any more. They are the old
cars. They have to get off the highway because they can't
keep up.
That flat white rock off by itself from the other rocks
reminded me of that dead cat come to lie there in the creek,
among 12, 845 telephone booths.
I threw out a salmon egg and let it drift down over that
rock and WHAM! a good hit! and I had the fish on and it ran
hard downstream, cutting at an angle and staying deep and
really coming on hard, solid and uncompromising, and then
the fish jumped and for a second I thought it was a frog. I'd
never seen a fish like that before.
God-damn ! What the hell!
The fish ran deep again and I could feel its life energy
screaming back up the line to my hand. The line felt like
sound. It was like an ambulance siren coming straight at
me, red light flashing, and then going away again and then
taking to the air and becoming an air-raid siren.
The fish jumped a few more times and it still looked like
a frog, but it didn't have any legs. Then the fish grew tired
and sloppy, and I swung and splashed it up the surface of
the creek and into my net.
The fish was a twelve-inch rainbow trout with a huge hump
on its back. A hunchback trout. The first I'd ever seen. The
hump was probably due to an injury that occurred when the
trout was young. Maybe a horse stepped on it or a tree fell
over in a storm or its mother spawned where they were
building a bridge.
There was a fine thing about that trout. I only wish I could
have made a death mask of him. Not of his body though, but
of his energy. I don't know if anyone would have understood
his body. I put it in my creel.
Later in the afternoon when the telephone booths began to
grow dark at the edges, I punched out of the creek and went
home. I had that hunchback trout for dinner. Wrapped in
cornmeal and fried in butter, its hump tasted sweet as the
kisses of Esmeralda.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Sharing Same Moon Makes Our Love Eternal
I am sitting at my window watching,
It's night, moon is glowing like a queen of sky,
I know you are too far away to feel me,
But in same time we are sharing the same moon.
How many words i wish i tell you,
How much i want that you to hold my hand,
And rest my head on your shoulder,
Comforting my crying eyes with your tender kiss.
I am looking to the moon, i feel so lonely,
You are too far away to feel my pain,
I know you think of me in moonlight,
When looking at the moon we share our dream.
Is nothing else to compare in my life,
As your eyes shinning to me like stars in the darkness,
I have the feeling you belong to me,
Sharing same moon makes our love eternal.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Nightfall (A Lullaby)
One by one the lights go down
Soon there will be nothing left to see
Night is here
One by one the stars come out
And with the moon will watch us from above
Night is here
Lay your head down to rest
Leave the weary world behind
Close your eyes, don't think twice
There will always be tomorrow
One by one the lights go down
Until there's nothing left to do but dream
Night is here
One by one the stars come 'round
To mark the way and guide us through our dreams
Night is here
Night is here
Night.... is...... here....
poem by Sonya Florentino
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