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08-13-04, 05:33 AM
like an ocean, and on two wheels
I am nothing so much as a fish
gliding, darting, skimming the road
wriggling between the idling sharks as they
line up before the bloody eye,
slaves to their instinct
suspended in this medium, gravity’s
insistent tug is lessened
even speed, that enabler, is no longer needed
as I hang, rocking gently, then:
the kick-in, the stroke, the silent wake
lights bloom and die around me
traffic’s flowers, and here and there
other fish wheel and cut as
weaving, I find the hole, press through
in search of calmer waters
the jerky fall-and-catch of walking was
an evolutionary sidestep, not progress
there’s no poetry in the heavy trudge
the spin recapitulates the fin
and in that stroke finds the fluidity
of that older, lost appendage
fish may not need bicycles, but I do
if only to know, translated, their grace
this message was brought to you by Anchor Steam, Sauza, and a really spectacular ride home from the bar tonight. No fish were killed or crusted in the making of this blank verse.
I am nothing so much as a fish
gliding, darting, skimming the road
wriggling between the idling sharks as they
line up before the bloody eye,
slaves to their instinct
suspended in this medium, gravity’s
insistent tug is lessened
even speed, that enabler, is no longer needed
as I hang, rocking gently, then:
the kick-in, the stroke, the silent wake
lights bloom and die around me
traffic’s flowers, and here and there
other fish wheel and cut as
weaving, I find the hole, press through
in search of calmer waters
the jerky fall-and-catch of walking was
an evolutionary sidestep, not progress
there’s no poetry in the heavy trudge
the spin recapitulates the fin
and in that stroke finds the fluidity
of that older, lost appendage
fish may not need bicycles, but I do
if only to know, translated, their grace
this message was brought to you by Anchor Steam, Sauza, and a really spectacular ride home from the bar tonight. No fish were killed or crusted in the making of this blank verse.