Tag Archives: catfish

2026, Day Book, everyday words, Ohio River Valley Literature, Poet's Life, poetry, prose, the no-scape

Daybook 2026 // Winter 2.10-11.26

2.10.26 [from field notes]

My new bad hip tells me the world is melting / not that a harbinger was at all necessary // caved away with the radio,the dogs and cat / my pipe, a cup of coffee, and fading / into a mystery / the same old one / disappearing as I am / one mask at a time / into tobacco smoke / into ash / into used coffee grounds / until the world is passageable once again

I will lumber on in my own awkward fashion / a slightly mannered baboon //

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I think it’s entirely possible that I will never find my place in the world /  and so left to write the ground under my feet / one step at a time.

2.11.26

///water dragons grow from uncaught catfish///

Left to my own devices I start to dive into my own linguistic: a mish mash of the words my granddaughter puts together and the various literatures that have / over the years / saved my life // crawling out I always try to remember / one must code switch / when floating to the surface / in the manner of a gianthead catfish / prehistoric / the stuff of cryptohistories
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2024, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life, the no-scape, Working Class Literature

The Storied Water in Dead Eyes, 14

Oh I will be talking to that taunting catfish again. I will I will I will. In the long evening after the cruise, the day’s last light going to bed west of the L&N bridge, smoking my pipe, clearing my mind of everything except trying to trick that mud eater into remaining uncaught until I can get my fishing pole.

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