Tuesday, April 8, 2003

Twenty-two degrees, cloudy, windy, and freezing drizzle this morning. I asked last night was it November, or April? I can't tell the difference, except everything is green now--whereas in November, it's turning brown and grey.
Thinking of Ray last night--wondering what kind of poem he would write about this spring.
Took a picture of a school of a strange,eel-like fish while in Florida: reminded me of this poem by Ray Carver:
The Current

These fish have no eyes
these silver fish that come to me in dreams,
scattering their roe and milt
in the pockets of my brain.

But there's one that comes--
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest,
that simply holds against the current,

closing its dark mouth against
the current, closing and opening
as it holds to the current.

Copyright © 2000 by Tess Gallager. All rights reserved. Vintage Books; (April 4, 2000). Buy this and other Carver books at Click here.

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