Poet's Moon

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Fish

A fish is any member of a paraphyletic group of organisms that consist of all gill-bearing aquatic craniate animals that lack limbs with digits. Included in this definition are the living hagfish, lampreys, and cartilaginous and bony fish, as well as various extinct related groups. Most fish are ectothermic ("cold-blooded"), allowing their body temperatures to vary as ambient temperatures change, though some of the large active swimmers like white shark and tuna can hold a higher core temperature. Fish are abundant in most bodies of water. They can be found in nearly all aquatic environments, from high mountain streams (e.g., char and gudgeon) to the abyssal and even hadal depths of the deepest oceans (e.g., gulpers and anglerfish). At 32,000 species, fish ex… more »

Year:

1991

4:26

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You sit there, biding your time.
Out of your head and into your mind.
Penning thoughts that are dreams in action.
A glass raised to an absent muse.
A boy stands in his father's shoes,
And a drunk man smiles at a thistle, 
Under a Poet's moon.
Under a Poet's moon, there's a life sign burning.
A Poet's moon, like a vision shining, and
The lovers lie in the long grass, stolen flowers make their bed.
Under a Poet's moon, there are dreams in action.
Prayers met and questions answered,
As the world whirls in the darkness.
I'm still staring at the skies under a Poet's moon.
A night black as Hoodlo's eye.
The sparks fly from a tinker's fire,
As the stories burn among us under a Poet's moon.
A seed falls onto stony ground,
Without a hope and without a sound.
From the weeds will grow the flowers, under a Poet's moon.
Under a Poet's moon, there's a salmon settling
In a guddler's hand that is patient waiting.
Like a lover's touch, to charm the life,
His fingers play the reeds.
Under a Poet's moon, there's a whistle blowing, 
Out in no mans land
Where a flare is falling in a deadly night.
The dreamers stand like flowers in a storm,
Flowers in the storm, we are flowers in the storm,
Under a Poet's moon.
You sit there biding your time,
Out of your head and into your mind.
Penning thoughts that are dreams in action.
A cross made in a polling booth.
Another flies in a field of blue,
And a drunk man smiles at a thistle, 
Under a Poet's moon.
Under a Poet's moon, there are angels crying, dead men born,
And devils laughing, and the dance goes on regardless till
You're carried from the floor.
Under a Poet's moon, there are dreams in action.
Prayers met and questions answered, as the world whirls in the darkness.
I'm still staring at the skies, staring at the skies; we're still staring at the skies
Under a Poet's moon.

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