And Then I Thought I Was a Fish


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School of thought

Before I go, some news: physical copies are now available on amazon. This site will be updated if have I have pressing news about this book re: I get paid enough money so I can retire and spend more time updating all these websites. June 23, pm by: Peter Welch.

The Knights of the Fish - Wikipedia

Check it out. June 3, pm by: Peter Welch. Shipping out to kickstarter supporters Monday and Tuesday, then searching through my email for all the drunken promises of books to people who wrote me about it. Date TBD, but hopefully this month. In summation: there will probably not be physical copies available on the website for a while yet, and possibly not at all. In the meantime, if you really want a copy, send an email to peter andthenithoughtiwasafish.

April 27, pm by: Peter Welch.

Ecological recovery depends on whether fish can handle changed conditions

The PDF versions have been sent to the kickstarter backers. I am, strictly speaking, making these versions available publicly to anyone who works their way through the internet puzzle.

The print versions will go to the printer early next week. Briefly, I have to finalize the size and margins and give them a page count. Eggshell, oyster, parchment, flax. Far down the black-mulched beds, they seemed ancestral to me, the fluted heads of dowagers, their meaty, groping, silent tongues. They seemed to form perspective's chain: cinder, bone, divinity.

The Smith Street Band - When I Was A Boy I Thought I Was A Fish

My father waved. The crows set down. By evening, our fields took the texture of freshened clay, a sleek and water-bloated sheen, although no water rested there—just heat and ash united in a slick mirage. I crossed the fence line, circled closer, the grasses all around me collapsing into tufts of smoke.

Then as I bent I saw the shapes, rows and rows of tougher stems— brittle, black, metallic wisps, like something grown to echo grass.

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The soot was warm, the sky held smoke in a jaundiced wing, and as a breeze crossed slowly through, stems glowed—then ebbed— consecutively. And so revealed a kind of path, and then a kind of journey. Windows When the cow died by the green sapling, her limp udder splayed on the grass like something from the sea, we offered our words in their low calibrations— which was our fashion—then severed her horns with a pug-toothed blade and pounded them out to an amber transparency, two sheets that became, in their moth-wing haze, our parlor windows.

They softened our guests with the gauze-light of the Scriptures, and rendered to us, on our merriest days, the sensation of gazing through the feet of a gander.

The totoaba’s Chinese cousin

In time we moved up to the status of glass—one pane, then two—each cupping in proof of its purity a dimple of fault, a form of distortion enhancing our image. We took the panes with us from cottage to cottage, moth-horn and glass, and wedged up the misfitted gaps with a poultice of gunny and wax. When woodsmoke darkened our bricks, we gave to the windowsills a lacquer of color—clear blue with a lattice of yellow: a primary entrance and exit for light. And often, walking home from the river and small cheese shop, we would squint their colors to a sapling green, and remember the hull of that early body, the slap of fear we suffered there, then the little wash of recovery that is our fashion—how we stroked to her bones a cadenced droning, and took back from her absence, our amber, half-literal method of sight.

Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter. Teach This Poem. Follow Us. Find Poets. Read Stanza.

Look at your fish, part two

Jobs for Poets. Materials for Teachers. The Walt Whitman Award. James Laughlin Award. A man walks out and it is broad daylight. Back then I only dreamt in violence. No, what people would remember was that I was Black. The end. Shared Plight Bound to whims, bred solely for circuses of desire. Two endangered beings in a moat stare into each other's eyes. Kamilah Aisha Moon Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter.

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And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish
And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish
And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish
And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish
And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish
And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish
And Then I Thought I Was a Fish And Then I Thought I Was a Fish

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