Monday, November 09, 2009


Big Fish ~ Michael Hutter
Now to the mast
Lashed and moon-lit arrested
I tag these notches on my bones
Count the rings of petals flower fallen
She loves me
She loves me not
Not in floral wrath or knotted ropes of rain
Or councils keen where never king shall reign
But through leaves of painted pages
Spines all gone now confined to cages
These ribs of steelwork hull enrole
The sheets that sail unsure on titan seas
Rivet-gunned the rope-trick to my soul
And sent your thoughts to me
To bid me lift my eyes above the waves
And sail upon the reef’s knife edge
Index link my fingers to the stars
Orion, Orion, Arcturus
Tack and turn into the biting wind
Knife the surface tension now to find
Leviathan slumbers neath my cleaving keel


ArtSparker said...

And when the ship is overturned, there is new knowledge.

Jimmy Bastard said...

I need to know where your head is at when you write these. Your talent is simply bloody brilliant.

James Higham said...

Rivet gunned?

Pisces Iscariot said...

Artsparker: knowledge and barnacles

Jimmy: How much time have you got?
The bones of this one were jotted down while suffering my daily dose of London Underground (Trans-Siberian Branch) Later, in more relaxed frame of mind, with music playing, I padded it out into something resembling coherance. :)

James: Is this a question?

the walking man said...

Though it may appear so, the true leviathans never sleep.

Harlequin said...

the image and its title are so perfect for your poetic...which, for me, at least, seems to bring me inside the psyche of both man and fish... you do this so well.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Walking Man: but not all leviathans are real ;]

Harlequin: Being part man part fish, I feel this is required of me :D