So The Self Under The Eye Lies,

The Shell The Sea Fills My Ear With Sand And With Fear. You May Wash Out The Sand, But Never The Sound Of The Ghost Of The Sea That Is Haunting Me.

The Real Mystery Is This Strange Need. Why Can't We Just Hide It And Shut Up? Why Do We Have To Blab? Why Do Human Beings Need To Confess?

Fishing Provides That Connection With The Whole Living World. It Gives You The Opportunity Of Being Totally Immersed, Turning Back Into Yourself In A Good Way. A Form Of Meditation, Some Form Of Communion With Levels Of Yourself That Are Deeper Than The Ordinary Self.

The Deeps Are Cold: In That Darkness Camaraderie Does Not Hold: Nothing Touches But, Clutching, Devours.

With A Sudden Sharp Hot Stink Of Fox, It Enters The Dark Hole Of The Head. The Window Is Starless Still; The Clock Ticks, The Page Is Printed.