Guests like fish, begin to smell after 3 days
I used to write lots of poems like the one below. A word, a thought, a concept would set me off and then it was all about association, a chain of words, one leading to the next.
It was more “exercise” for my mind, more than anything else. Mental gymnastics that kept the motor running smoothly. An activity borrowed from the surrealists and their automatic writing. Suppressing the consciousness and letting the sacred water of thought flow. I do recommend it. It tunes up our primitive, so strong, mental faculties, that of association, metaphor - the basis of all intelligence as we are finding out.
Fish
Fish market. Fishmonger
Fisherman. Fisherman’s wharf
Fish fillets. Fish fingers
(Do fish have fingers?")
Fish and chips,
Do fish have lips?
Fish on Friday, fish fries,
Fish soup, fish on a dish
Fish in a well, make a wish!
Fish in a bowl, a fishy smell.
Small fish, small fry
Small fish in a big pond
A whale ain’t a fish, Moby wailed
Fish in schools, no fish in jails.
A fish out of water
The fisherman’s daughter
Odd fish, fishwife
Fish tales
(Do fish have tails?)
The one that got away …
Drink like a fish
A fisher ain’t a fish
More fish to fry
Neither fish nor foul
Fish don’t ever ask “why”.
Fish eggs
Row, row, row
Fish flopping in the boat
Dead fish don’t always float.
Fished out
That’s all she wrote.
A kettle of fish
Fishing for compliments
Fishing for food
Fishing for fun
Fish can’t run.
Fish guts, fish salad
Tuna fish but
You can’t tune a piano.
Sand which
No fish can survive
Sashimi
Eating a fish alive.
Cold fish
Fish eyes first
Fish bones
We don’t see
Neither fish nor fowl
Plenty more fish in the free sea …