Three poems by David S. Pointer

Joe’s Fishing Lake

A 14 year old
kid skipped
school and
caught a 52
pound Buffalo
Carp at Joe’s
pay lake then
I came on the
scene a couple
of years later
at age 9 or 10
catching a 14
and 16 pound
carp—the little
kids thought
I was the big
fish magician
still fighting
the tangle of
ten pound
test line as
if it were



Pitch forward
like a bullet
pocked corpse
into every page
of the reading—
own your own
pain into the ink
and maybe you
can avoid a non-
invasive hangman’s
noose into the
other world,
coming away
with a chap,
novel or even
nothing more
than a gray
day to evade
or celebrate

Stifling Humidity

Brautigan ash floats
underfoot today, the
undertow abyss isn’t
too far off either as
I realize that some
days the ink offers
up something good,
great or at least
readable and other
times the pens
break deep inside
all of your pockets

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