two poems: fishing and space
fishing
we bent
down legs
to all
thighs,
led from
fire flies
until they
tilted
into dusk,
into dazed glow
of coordination
round marshes,
mud suck,
under bridge
we hunched, red
swell of heat — trapped
down to trek forward,
sweating off foreheads
we held
fishing poles
strung to lines,
rolled into hooks,
metal twisted into
blood gut of fish,
salt hung in air,
hung on hair, we stepped
through until slats of bridge
split into lit
yellow from
above vehicles
rumbling, drivers
unaware of below,
of two men squatted
on twists in ligaments,
crossed to other ends,
slicked of pore oil, cigarettes tucked
in ears, until past bridge
to a night pressed on pond,
bright of lamp post, glowed
of halo yellow
we casted, dragging
back into reel spin,
cut into fish mouth
gills all air-choked,
eyes bulged before
dried of all color
space
before fetal, before
our cellular unfolding
into brain stem, before
fed of amniotic, curled
in engorging of womb
before eyes, before
pupils all black
in mother sack,
billions of
plasma stars
churned to fusion,
distance farther
apart
than widths
of planet-fat
in between that, all nothing
so nothing, for so far,
for so long,
even within us,
in our atomic
bulk, between
electrical in
electron
motion,
mostly emptiness
is human
we birth of
earth, point
haloed in sun
until its heat
swells to our
fall,
we curl
inward, fed of
this wanderer, so far
away, we are,
cradled in silence,
only a gleam
