We play a game called Mouth & Ear: one speaks, the other listens. It’s simple. If your words are trees, mine are finches, vagrant & garrulous. In the nest of your ear their fledglings sprout fletching. If my words are fish, yours are lures, marvels of ingenuity— a water-bound being’s dream of flight. I rise to the ring of ripples,

Dave Bonta

Fish Hook

Shrink an arrow bend it back upon itself strip it of feathers give it a lead sinker & a cork & a small steel eye to aid its introspection let the quarry do all the travelling drawn by flash or flicker lure or wriggling bait let it exhaust itself against this irrevocable stillness

aSadlittleFriedChicken

Ocean

In my bubble I like to walk. I like to run and dance, All around the bubble. It's small but I like it here. My bubble is now water, So I swim now. It's much bigger than before. As I grew, I got more curious. Is there a Bottom? What does it looks like? I want to know. I want to see. With my arms I swam to the bottom, As far as I can go. I want to know. As far as I can go,

BomberJacknut

Abyssi

In the shallow waters, children play Crashing waves all night and all day Beautiful shells, colorful fish For what more could one wish? Then you go deeper, into the open Where whales roam and ships lay broken Filled with multitudes of life With which the ocean is rife. Deeper still, into the abyss Where light dies and things seem amiss Monstrous things with long, jagged teeth Swim all around in the underneath. Then there is the bottom of it all It's there that you feel so very small No man can go that deep Down where lies the things that sleep.

Balachandran V

Cleansing

The forest stream grumbles as the big rock Makes it swerve sharply to the right But is relieved that around the bend It can flow freely again. It swirls; over the sand bed the stream made Where I lie in total stupor The stream gurgles happily over the little stones and rocks That cradles me like a foetus in its womb. I lie, floating, watching my toes peeking out of the water And my nose, like a periscope This bloated corpulence slapped Gently by the ripples of the water. The sun is clouded out for the moment I close my eyes in bliss All I hear are the chuckle of the stream And the chirping of the Wagtail.

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