.. a fisher, he has the appearance
of one looked at from a distance, isolated,
a figurine moving four steps sharply forward
his arms over his head, his foot again by the rodholder.
His lineage has faults
but he projects, it's his syntax, his unit of composition,
sometimes it all goes together, epsilon,
the fall of a gull-dropped shellfish, as time goes by,
air like aluminium on a February Saturday,
S cleaning windows across the pane then down,
tossing a line off each moment..
how free is Willy, composing with his felttip
his KREUZER JET, casting his net upon the waters, how frightened:
f lose sight of my appealing wife. Remember our blue car