Under the great Dipper
A man
I shall call
Bruce
Takes is boat out
On the water and
Does some midnight fishing
"the fish are fine and the dipper bright"
He exclaims.

The waves hold secrets
of fishermen's lives
fishermen's wives

buried at sea
sacrificed
giving life
to the ones they love
left on the shore, looking out
to an endless horizon
praying for God's mercy, love

safe return
for the fishermen
and the fisherman's friends
who left port
with bravado, confidence
they could conquer Neptune's wrath
sail between heaven and hell
bringing home the catch
from the depths

celebrate another day of life
snatched from the precipice
of a watery grave

Here's another story I'll tell
someday
when you read it, you'll know

it was afore-told, by me,

now.

It's got links to Disneyfied legends

haunting childless-by-choice or chance
Millennials,
who keep jacking up the prices
at Disneyland

with all their mis-be-gotten **** dollahs
(double income no kids).
WSJ say Millennials think Dineylan worth a Grand,

be some mythical dope dealer angel-level
worthy,
y'ax me,
*****-fuggetabouder.

dings and whistles from the slot alert him escape -
sit before my image enter its wild wolf canyon escape

winding road in lofty forest landscape
beckon her - leave him for my green escape

triple x signs promise writhing bodies
heavy breathing and dark dank escape

the flute lay still of the silent table sparkling
sweet melodic memories of fingered escape

the frothy surging surf traces the seam of the sea -
bathe in my *****, wrap your self in my fluid escape

locked door soft light from below no sounds
inside creative energy sparks a poetic escape

on the placid lake he casts his hopes
awaits the tug - he and his prey escape

she stands eyes closed, smiling face turned upward
feels the breeze in her hair thanks God for this sweet escape

he runs in the field of goldenrod tears stream
and he screams a desperate entreaty for escape

the sylvan spirits flown from the mountain trees
into the green glen whisper as angels - escape!

The bait is set.
All I do is wait...
For someone to bite,
Waist deep in water, still not wet.
I will go hungry again...tonight.

Wonder what's wrong, the world's unfair.
So many fish in rivers and lakes...
Wonder, Why me? look down in despair,
The fish is all plastic, the scales are all fake.

The rod is tense.
All I do is pull....
All I want is flesh....
The pain is intense...
The fish is a fool.

Pay dirt
Eyes her target
Sit just so & sit tight
Let him think that he's the hunter, then
******* fish

The alarm got us up before the sun fully awoke
we pulled our sleepy bodies out of bed
got on our grungies not even fixing coffee yet,
got our gear together in the pickup
and headed for the peninsula
where we hoped the sand bass would be schooling,
searching for some breakfast of worms or flashy things that looked to them like food.
If we were lucky we hooked a few which we would cook later
or save for the freezers back home.

When we got back to the campground
we’d comb our hair brush our teeth and head into town
for Pat’s Cafe who served the best biscuits, eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes in the region
and if we were lucky Pat herself with her long black hair and **** lips
and substantial hips
would stop by and in her Texas twang and charm
she’d tell us about their farm
we’d speak of our wives
and some of the small details of our lives
and how we loved that large beautiful body
that sparkled and sang to us each spring
and how we savored dipping into Lake Whitney.

In late afternoon we would laze about the RV
discussing Theilhard and Jesus and Charlie
he’d speak of Bob Wills and we’d share
trying to make sense of the spirits there
and how they made us leap and soar.
We spoke in sync and explored
lines of novels, and fascinating texts
that made us eager to discover what was next
that would make us laugh or shed tears
of all those memorable years
we’d been brothers
afloat of the same waters
becoming men who hoped to make their mark
spark something good in the minds
of other seekers who also drank wines
fermented in corridors of learning
who had the same yearning
for knowledge and truth
embedded early and deeply in our youth.