Two fishermen anchored in a tin boat
Surrounded by silty beaches, scrub brush,
Thick brick walls in dollar bills, and smoking
New dams. And eddies. And dead rivers. And
Great many anglers. Allies puffing herbs
Just lit one idea and lit another.
The light edges to end one subject. To
Start another. To find no in-between.
Extreme at study from search of catfish.
The poles and hooks and tackle and bucket
Of drifting fish. Dreaming in among the
Floating ice that keeps them. Bumping the walls
And breathing in the liquid air like smoke
Pulling through their gills numbing to their end.