Fish of Rage
BY Gary Barwin
O Toaster of the water, Toaster of the water, your toast is a mystery amidst the reeds. O slotted henge for fish, fins brush your dials in love and wonder. Your pushed lever is set to darken all underwater with toast.
This in a lake far from the counters of the city & the fish of rage which slide the tarmac river. A page of cooked bread breaches the surface, dolphins in the new ears of morning, the long united ears of morning which say hurrah. A square of darkness jubilant and remembering night.
