POOLING WITH THE ILLUMINATI - Poem
POOLING WITH THE ILLUMINATI
Salmon are not biolumes.
Unlike the lanternfish,
Unlike the lanternfish,
Radiant in their eyes,
They do not
Light their own path.
Which is a shame
When I imagine a parade
Across the empty ocean
Like a night freeway
Pregnant with cars.
And I dream the beauty
Of an illuminated stream
Fat with the trembling fish
Each holding its own candle
They do not
Light their own path.
Which is a shame
When I imagine a parade
Across the empty ocean
Like a night freeway
Pregnant with cars.
And I dream the beauty
Of an illuminated stream
Fat with the trembling fish
Each holding its own candle
To the dark of the weir.
It is we, who light the salmon,
In the same way we
Anthropomorphize
Their frantic dance
Past our lines and nets
We envision a power,
A drive far beyond our own.
Even though it is
No more intentional to them
Than our breath is to us.
Still, we envy their parade.
And we gawk at their pooling.
It is we, who light the salmon,
In the same way we
Anthropomorphize
Their frantic dance
Past our lines and nets
We envision a power,
A drive far beyond our own.
Even though it is
No more intentional to them
Than our breath is to us.
Still, we envy their parade.
And we gawk at their pooling.
We cheer as they leap falls
That we would never
Be able to master.
We ascribe no fear of death
As if they knew what awaits
And we ponder our own voyage
With its turns and its digressions,
Along a path, unlit, to its end.
Along a path, unlit, to its end.
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