Perfection.
Properly cooked, fish delights the senses, in particular the mouth.
With the weight of the ripe, a poem also delights the senses, in particular the mouth. What not the ear? No, the mouth of this I am certain.
For the record a recent perfectly cooked Santa Barbara wild bass at Arch Fish inspired the mouth and the pen. I was certain and overjoyed.
Hypotheticals (continued)
ReplyDeleteOnce when younger the merchant had aspirations
he sat down on the wooden bench by the seaside
and began his series of poems to be sent to the foreman
Folded in quarters they might entice a confession
"I watch the water day after day
the light splintering the sun
the grey metal shapes traverse the piers
they load and unload the crates
full of cars and guns and toys of business
spring is an aching for recess
and flight from damages of the heart"