Joris Iven

2†† Contemplation



My thoughts are with the basic attraction

Between the fisherman and the fish,

The quivering of the thrashing scaly body,

Once it is pulled from the water,

The staring watery eyes which remain always fixed,

Not bound up with life,

And the blood, so little blood, that oozes and drips

As the knife slides through the throat,

The toppling body and the constant, fixed eyes,

As if death is not death;

This is how passion creeps in where something is defenceless.




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