Blue

She is lost
in the arms
of blue
gripped
in the teeth
of freedom
skirted
by the politics
of morbidity
frolicking
in the forest
of people watching
lapped
in the milk
of state
and nothing she tries
will ever be worthy
of the majesty
of her great
inner
fish

Fish

Everyone is angry with the fish
for not meaning anything

It tries
but it is just a fish

Fish are notoriously bad
at meaning things

For effortless meaning
you want a kangaroo

That is simply the way
it has always been

hand fish

finger points
to hand fish
inside mystical cave
full of clues
clues
of magic
and terror
and pie

follow the
pointing finger
to the hand fish
and its mother
who is upset
about Grendel
with cherries
on top

no
you may not
have my hand fish
for it is mine
mine
mine
mine
and not yours at all

That Fish

It swims
into my memory
insidious
and made of anger
oh the fish
oh the striving
and the shielding
children from despair
watch the fish
shine like fire
as it writes narrow-minded
letters to the editor
and refuses to acknowledge
the beauty inherent
in the subsequent analysis

One of Those Days

Well
this fish
is certainly not
what I meant to trip on this morning
and I had no clue
I would end up at the bottom
of the world’s longest staircase
being photographed by twelve reporters
who have gathered to witness
the coming of a benevolent alien race
known for its astounding chocolate

I guess
you can just never tell
what’s going to happen