The Angler

THE ANGLER

Let the old shadows make room for the new!
The sun angles toward the jagged snow caps
where old shadows make room for the new,

and the angler pauses to gather his wraps,
and to gaze at the gizzard shad huddled
just below the stem-river stones. Perhaps

their hard darkening reprieve has muddled
some latter day prospects for the gazer
above them. Around him the shadows–scuttled

by dusk–scowl and flee. Still, the angler
lingers a bit longer, to savor his view
of slowly fading fish, to remember

all the ancient lures he’d used to subdue
all the ancient schools. Even then, he scarcely knew
how the old shadows make room for the new.

M. Salomon

tricycle form–”…it is all one can do to remember…”

It is all one can do to remember
the dark warmth that was immortality,
so much colder now.  Abandoned forever
 
for this coil of möbius memory
that turns and twists away from the plane 
and the sharp pull of flat reality,

turning and twisting to ever sustain
some urgent momentum to recover
delirious paths away from the pain 

of the broken gods underfoot, after
the fall, after the immortality
that is all one can do to remember.

M. Salomon

Photo–Wasteland by duesentrieb