Fly Fishing With Sun Ra

by Justin Patrick Moore

I went fly fishing with Sun Ra last night.

We waded into particle fields of ice
to sit on the edge of Saturn’s glistening ring
and drink the venom of the Desert
while we talked about gravity

music is what really holds the world together
he says, pointing his finger, an electric conductor

of the spheres in their orbit, of the satellites spinning
the old band leader grinned as we cast our lines

Sun Ra’s bait danced on the surface of the cosmos
his fingers were fly, on the black and white keys
shifting harmonic perspectives, rippling in the drift
a whippoorwill of melody, his piano a vortex

our civilization is like Atlantis, ya dig
caught in histories undertow, human larvae
only just now awaking, percussive rhythms shaking

off the sorrow, awaiting a great tomorrow.

Ra tells me about his time as an ambassador
of Fibonacci thought forms, of his work
on asymmetrical equations and alien syntax,
as a musical guide, to the stars in the underworld

          all he has to do is flash his badge
          to Anubis at the security checkpoint
          and we pass between the pylons
          guarding the moon

and so angle in the stream of stars
as we carry baskets woven from cattails
traveling down strange celestial roads
to the sound of a sistrum, as the cymbals shift
and vectors change, we lift off to an other plane

we haul in our last catch

always leaving enough spawn to regenerate the Nile
so decide to catch a rocket skipper,
stow away our gear and go trawling
across the arched body
of the heliocentric worlds.