gone fishing

    Ikebana is an art of space, the space between branches flowers and leaves. This space is a plentiful void projecting tension and energy.

    Sofu Teshigahara, 1900-1979 founder of the Sogetsu School of Ikebana

I can’t speak right now.   I’m in the middle of
        turning blue.   no, just kidding.   making soup.

I’m in the middle of an after-thought, day dreaming
afternoon tea with a cat.   doing my nails, cleaning
the refrigerator – well, having a snack.

I’m in the middle of spelling rhinoceros, playing
my violin, imagination says yep, no lie.   I’m busy
avoiding Tuesdays, using forks on alternate weeks.

I’m in the middle of counting my toes, where’d
that tenth one go?   then reading a magazine,
inflating my tires, catching fish hand over hand.

I’m mid-stride reading Henry Miller, becoming
a pirate part-time, sewing winter’s old shoes,
feeding the cat, learning to swim upstream.

    They ask you, What do you wanna be when you grow up?   Later they ask, What do you do?   Which is just another way of saying, What have you become?   It’s not enough to have a name.   People need something to call you.   So you search.   You look at the roles the world offers you, trying to find the one that reflects who you are.

    Only a lucky few get to play the part they want.   The rest settle for what’s left or struggle with what they’ve been handed.   Then we all learn to embrace our illusions of identity.

    Derek DelGaudio, In & Of Itself

I’m hanging with the river crowd, ignoring
better intentions for buying fish, drawing modern
art in my spare time.   being confused about red.

I’m floating over a porcupine and her pups.
over a trail of ants who’ve found a sugar bowl.
the Puget Sound.   part of the Salish Sea.

I’m swimming through seaweed here.   it grows
feet by the day you know.   harder for the big
fish to find me here.   especially those big teeth.

I can’t speak right now, I’ve been called away.
        sushi is ready to eat.   life is very good.

        nibble nibble, as we say.

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