Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Whish I were fishing at Willow Beach

The shadow in the water
pulls the line
A silver jump and
vibrations of light
circle to a hand
With clouds
sitting on his shoulders
a rainbow struggles
for his light

Willow Beach


  1. Close Your eyes. I will meet you there for some coffee, and cakes.My fishing pole has no hook. j

  2. A stream
    of bubbles rise
    in the
    gleaming brook
    Scattering light,
    reflections in the
    colorless blue water
    On the crinkled surface
    they gently pop
    and vanish
    But with no one
    there to
    inhale their essence
    How can we know:
    Did a phish phart?