they released 2000 rainbow trout
in liberty pond the other day
an event unintentionally clandestine
I looked it up myself after the fact
having been preannounced by the
department of natural resources
there is no conspiracy to be found here
but merely an opportunity
what with an ultra-light rod & tackle box
tidily packed in the corner of my trunk
april two thousand twenty-four
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once the snow melted
the waterways swelled
one tributary feeding the next
from stream to creek to river to street
it would be a mess
how spring had sprung a major leak
flowers sprouting
despite nearly drowning
fish displaced inside businesses
situated within flood zones
shelterless children using spears
to bring home the bacon
for mama to fry
the way things were going
the season of regeneration
was on the verge of perpetuity
all those affected beginning to ask
if the normalcy of summer
would ever arrive
january two thousand twenty-four
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they started stocking the fishery
with rainbow trout a couple of years ago
in the dead of winter the surface is rock solid
inviting ice skaters & parasailers
and of course ice fishermen & women
all of the fish below the ice in near freezing waters
are native except for the rainbow trout
I suppose they survive by not getting caught
december two thousand twenty-three
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it’s food day
so I call in sick and grab
my rod & reel
walk the five point five miles
to the trout stream
in my pockets
I carry [among other things]
single-serving packets
of mayonnaise & pickle relish
—a couple of hot dog buns
and a swiss army knife
in the tackle box
I have fake worms
and a fake license
red & white bobbers
rainbow spinners & a blue stringer
[among many other things]
at work it’s nearly breaktime
—suddenly one of the bobbers
disappears below the surface
october two thousand twenty-three
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our politicians have failed us
that’s what’s in my head
as I go jogging one early morning
in a city I’ve never been
[until the night before]
I couldn’t sleep
maybe it was the jet lag
maybe it was all the worries
inside my mind
it shouldn’t be like this I say
as I race along the river lee
a heavy mist blanketing
the surroundings
a heavy heart inside my body
beating 128 times per minute
I tell myself today will be different
I will find a way not to count
all the chickens before they’re hatched
everything seems to be a circle
I’m telling myself
as I walk briskly on the path
the rear of the hotel coming into view
fishermen along the river
undoubtedly living in the moment
september two thousand twenty-three
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battling winds & tide
we do not need a new enemy
one leaving us w/real-time bruises
flashbacks refusing
to fade away
we live to fish & survive
not to defend saltwater territory
by raising arms or clenching fists
provoked into protecting
what is rightfully ours
august two thousand twenty-three
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The Energy of the pyramids
beckons the next pilgrimage
whether a week from tomorrow
or four thousand years ago
Some say the Architects
were otherworldly over-achievers
trading road maps for free rides
and fishing the River Nile
july two thousand twenty-three
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When I found myself in the U.S., and the war was at full swing in Bosnia,
I read for survival – it was a means of thought resuscitation.
— Aleksandar Hemon
A road less traveled
a place outside of the self
if only you could see me there
maybe you’d begin
to understand what it means
to be suspended in time
Not far you should find Lazarus
astir on the peninsula
fishing no doubt
waiting on the next wave
It’s nothing but a distraction
as are all the ghosts of the past
my own image
becoming ashen
Somehow you find me
and pull
me
back
in
back onto the shoulder
of a road
less traveled
december two thousand twenty-two
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Take me across the water ’cause I need some place to hide
— Ken Hensley
we’re catching fish
upstream from the lock & dam
catch & release catch & release
oh here’s a keeper bluegill
straight out of the mississippi
we understand the newly formed
‘limit police’ are out in full force
some on the water &
others on foot
allegedly deputized by
the president of the united states
october two thousand twenty-two
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what can I take from him
in his waning years
that I’ve yet to discover
he asked me
is there anything that I have here
that you want
anything whatsoever
of course I realized
he was speaking of material things
having consistently kept his own philosophies
close to the vest
in hindsight there were probably
a thing or two or three—
could it have been
he was opening a door
trying to bait me like the fisherman
that he is
tempting me with a tidbit or two
only to yank it away
I nodded sideways
uninterested in the material world
incapable of matching his own imagination
august two thousand twenty-two
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the boys didn’t care to fish
but the girls sure did
sporting baseball caps
& hooking their own wax worms
license & trout stamp
taped inside tackle box
[probably half my age]
we’d drive an hour or more
singing songs & retelling
bad jokes & tall tales
without question we’d catch
our legal limit
it was merely a matter of time
working the cold water stream
shaded by elms
talking in whispers
& practicing our patience
june two thousand twenty-one
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pitching tent along little mill
on a friday evening
as if it were yesterday
from spring to fall
brown & rainbow trout
occasionally released
into coldwater stream
sometime after sunrise
morning menu
includes bacon & beer
& last night’s catch
two old friends unlikely
to meet again
may two thousand twenty-one
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Many men go fishing all of their lives without
knowing that it is not fish they are after.
~ Henry David Thoreau
They call it a lake but it’s really
just a big pond
I was told it’s so shallow
you could walk across it
which left me thinking
maybe I’d give it a go in early
February before the thaw
A decade ago
city officials pronounced it was safe
to eat the fish caught there
but as for me
I’ll only catch & release
may two thousand twenty-one
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it’s sunday somewhere
so this week I’m starting early
making my own bloody mary mix
on a late saturday night
secret ingredient bone broth
for some reason I’m thinking
the trout must be biting at prairie park
and though it’s eight hours ‘til sunrise
it’s only an eighteen minute drive
to my favorite fishing hole
november two thousand twenty
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it didn’t take her long to independently
cast her own line
and before you knew it
we were frequenting cold water streams
hundreds of miles from home
there must be a good spot here
I can feel it she told me
her eyes darting constantly
as we meandered against the flow
pausing when spotting rainbow trout
well within sight
motionless & suspended above the bed
in groups from three to seven
these will never bite she said
but we’re bound to find a cool pool up ahead
and so reeled back in
advancing further toward the inevitable
october two thousand twenty
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all rights reserved
listen carefully
the birds in the air are many
and you’re missing so many of them
in another life you were
a cardinal or a crow or a sparrow
going about your fabulous business
as if there’s no tomorrow
but of course you don’t
remember those days other
than a song or two or three
that for some reason keep
challenging your long term memory
tomorrow it will be monday
which means you’ll be fishing again
casting your line at lock & dam thirteen
and forgetting about the past
only focused on the task at hand
july two thousand twenty
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