"dogfish" poems
Lone leatherback cruises up from the deep, pausing on the fragile reef
to feast ancient eyes upon the show, a bright parade laid out below
butterfly couples paired for life, graceful angels in black and white stripe
brilliant clowns and their toxic lovers, a plodding gang of giant groupers
puffers bob like comic balloons, humble gobies on every menu
beaked parrotfish grinding the coral down, in the ears a constant sound
cowfish blowing puckered kisses, sea stars catching fishy wishes
white-tipped, hammerhead, tiger sharks, triggerfish mean bite worse than their bark
untamed unicorns too wild to ride, dogfish snapping, biting alongside
coral trout color-shifting fools, attracting ladies in dull-hued schools
**** headed wrasse rumbling through, thick lips mumbling go get a room
sea horses nod in labyrinth caves, razor-toothed eels lying in wait
if tentacled embrace should be your fate, nudibranchs will light the way
to a place of bliss, none of this can exist, without the builders
coral and algae bewildered, the ways of man egotistical
rising ocean temperatures, carbon emissions, and el Niño
victim of abundant greed, say goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef
so massive is this magical place, one can see it from outer space
astronauts witness its demise, ninety-percent barren, bleached bone white.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
Her fingernails were painted with little yellow suns
That’s ridiculous I thought
Some stupid forty –five years old
Housewife with ambitions
Or even worse—divorced *****
With her too high self confident
Ego
Who thinks that men just adore her?
For who what she is
We were in dogfish head or big fish grill
I always get lost in names
She was sitting opposite me and C
And was sending him strange playful looks
You could notice that she was definitely fake
Her ***** were too big and face
Her face saw a surgical scalpel
How we say in Belarus
About women who love plastic surgery
I was jealous
I thought something was going on between her and C
How old are you she asked me
And everyone looked at me
26 I said
A baby she stated
I was surprised
I considered myself too old
Among my acquaintances
And how old is she I whispered to C’s ear
Over 50 I think—he said
--Doesn’t matter—he said
--She is fake. Her ***** are fake, her
Face is fake. Her soul is fake.
We went to play pool later
But this X disturbed me
They live in the same hotel I thought
They work at the same work
She is tall
She used to look like a model when she was young
My paranoid jealousy started
Invading me slowly
From my toes to my scalp.
I saw in his phone
He was texting her—Love you
Stupid phrase
Without the I word
You never know whether he loves or he is just polite
I still don’t know whether or not.
She probably wasn’t that fake.
He probably lied again.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
She had **********
Down to a fine art;
Knew the nuances
Of kissing, or so
Uncle said and he
Should have known
As he had what you
Would later say was
An encylopaediatic
Knowledge of women,
Sufficient to put old
Casanova to shame.
Never treat women
The same, Uncle said,
They’re like precious
Diamonds, each has
Their own shiny bits,
Their little neat crevices,
Their own fine beauty.
Auntie knew nothing
Of this; she had the
Beauty of a dogfish,
Uncle often whispered,
Holding back a laugh.
The dame in question
Sure had you hooked
On her beauty like a fine
Art. You would dream of
Her most nights, have
Imaginary love feasts,
A fantasy laying of the
Head between *******
Pretend holding of hands
Before dipping in the deep
Gulf of her thighs. Henry,
Uncle’d say, women are
The high point of God’s
Creation, His claim to fame,
His special one off artwork.
The dame invaded your
Dreams and flooded your
Senses and ****** your
Juices; she had each aspect
Of your being pegged to her
Every move and shake of
Head and wiggle of ***
Henry, Uncle’d say, women
Are the reason for being,
The whole point of getting
Up in the morning and going
To bed at night, they are the
Reason popes or priests don’t
Marry, they are the pinnacle
Of humanity, the reason why
Your auntie runs them down.
Yes, she had ********** down
To a fine art, right down to
Her red painted toenails, right
Up to her dark brown hair and
You’d have made love to her
In your dreams each night in
Front of auntie’s ice-cold stare.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
there was a little fish a clever fish was hehe lived the rocks in the irish seain and out the rocks he would swim all day a very cheerful chap always bright and gayone day when he was swimming he heard a little yelpthere he saw a dogfish stranded in the kelpthe little fish was clever he knew just what to doand called upon a razor fish so he could cut it throughthe dogfish he was free now he was cut away then he thanked them both as he swam away
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 8:14 AM UTC
Dogfish thunderheads whisper in Seagrove skies
after a dinner of Shiraz and shrimp with peppercorn skids
that filled me warm and these clouds echoing
in the water seem dark without the children
and their crab lights searching the shores
the foam crests roar upon day burnt toes
and I sit and I watch and I write
these words in a strained attempt to capture
Dads margarita redness and Moms new haven beauty.
Sister and I observe on this, mayhaps last trip
as a family lacking a bay, but we are full joyed:
we are contented in sandy sheets.
We are one, for this week, whole
and it is good.
Lord, it is good.
On Jordan's stormy banks we stand
Through the love of God our savior all will be well.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Raindrops descend, puddles form,
A stream engulfed, a river is born,
A course is set, the sea to reach,
Meandering ponderously to a far off beach.
The sea reclaims its myriad young,
Kidnapped by clouds, thunder-slung;
The storm is long past with calm all around;
Albatross glide, with a whisper of sound.
Seagulls circle, dogfish sleep,
Gannets dive and dolphins leap,
But black clouds return and lightning flashes
O'er storm-tossed seas, as thunder crashes.
Once more a stealthy cloud abducts infant water,
The sea's own offspring: a son ... a daughter;
The thief sets off at a wind blown pace,
The anguished mother unable to chase.
The criminal finds refuge in a partisan crowd,
A formless body in a vaporous shroud;
The cloud has no guilt, shows no remorse,
But heads inland on a predestined course.
A hill stands guard, like a customs post;
It stabs the guilty, but allows past the host;
The rogue cloud is ruptured, severed seam and pleat,
Releasing its captives and accepting defeat.
Raindrops descend, puddles form,
A stream engulfed, a river is born,
A course is set, the sea to reach,
Meandering ponderously to a far off beach ...
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
there was a little fish a clever fish was he
he lived the rocks in the irish sea
in and out the rocks he would swim all day
a very cheerful chap always bright and gay.
one day when he was swimming he heard a little yelp
there he saw a dogfish stranded in the kelp
the little fish was clever he knew just what to do
and called upon a razor fish so he could cut it through .
the dogfish he was free now he was cut away
then he thanked them both for saving him that day.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
Out of the mouth of a terrible dogfish she came,
A modern-day Cinderella, but avid shoe geek,
Stabbed to death by stiletto on the Castle Turret,
Done in by her own spiked heels.
There was even a sign posted
Warning of the danger,
"Wear the wedge instead,"
Jiminy Cricket had said.
"I'm no fool,"
Her final utterance
Before tripping out in Thule.
All this just to dance with a wretched boy,
The scapegrace,
Who laughed derisively
In his maker's face,
Then stole his wig.
And as he fled with Candlewick
To the Land of Toys,
He dreamt of Lederhosen & feather hat,
To be seen in Tyrolean as the real McCoy.
Alas, here came the Northerly Wind,
Angry at the boy's lack of moral fiber,
To cast him out & lay bare his sin.
And as the rope passed
Unnoticeably 'round his wooden neck,
On this noose he did swing,
One long shudder, he was done and hung,
Stiff & insensible yo-yo on a string.
The moral of the story, boys & girls:
Fairy-tale Romance is like having
A venomous snake for a pet,
It's cool & fun & magical,
Until you get bit.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 12:16 AM UTC
Dogfish bait and a late teasing wind
slacks the line, the one binding
monofilament of time
and lost momentum
sagged from a raft adrift -
waiting -
and never enough
to sum the formulae,
the vagaries,
vicissitudes,
uncoiling from the reel
set with loose drag.
A stag in the sea still drowns,
still thrashes until the rack
goes down
one
last
time
one
last
breath
before the flounder is spitting
hair and bone
and the titanic hulk
becomes the soft stuff
of mollusks.
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 8:59 AM UTC