Sunday, March 26, 2017


"The Fish" by Troy's Work Table.

Sidewalk chalk wash, sidewalk chalk, chalk pastels, and charcoal pencil on 12" x 12" concrete board.


"Now the sea / is in me: I am the fish, the fish / glitters in me; we are / risen, tangled together / certain to fall / back to the sea." —from "The Fish" by Mary Oliver, as found in American Primitive


This poem is many things.

It is about nostalgia and recollection.

It is about a loss of innocence.

It is about the necessity of destruction in the act of ingestion and nourishment.

It is about interdependence and interconnectedness.

It is about suffering and the mystery of the same.


Yet there is also beauty here.

In the midst of death there is fascination.

Through the "law of contagion" one becomes a fish through ingestion. One swims in the sea, just as the sea swims in the one.


I imagine all of it a net. We may slip through, but it is unlikely.

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