I squat, alert
By the stream of consciousness
Waiting to catch
A potent poemfish.
Some are nimble
Shine with joy
Like scales are gifted
By the sun.
Others drift deeper
Wandering like thought
In cloudier judgements
And darker, darker places.
Such waters these,
You authors make!
Glinting phrases
Lit by wit and rippled
Pleasingly by warmth
And dappled wisdom.
And there within,
Are shoals of gifted poemfish
Ready for my hungry mind.
One day I'll trawl
The literaSeas
Among the giant Genre-whales
To sport, consort with chapter-crusted beasts.
But now, I dabbled in bookish brooks
To catch my verbal-scented,
Graced, demented poem fish.
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