![]() Trout
I do my best to keep pointlessness at bay. But here, wet above my knees, I let it fly. Here, hot and cold, fingers thick with thinking, I try to tie the fly and look for the net, loosening the philosophical knot of why I came here today, not yet knowing whether I'll free or fry the rainbows and browns once they're mine. From Volume 192, Number 4, July/August 2008 Copyright © The Poetry Foundation |