#9 – no title (ghostbird)

a bit of fluff.

The ghostbird, ears wide for mice,
drifts through the seasmell.
One lapwing, startled, wakes. Clouds break

and moonshine whites the waves.
A far police car sirens
as dark moths twist above the marsh.

  • Post Category:Napowrimo

#8 – limerick

I couldn’t post this last night – freezope seemed to be broken. I basically took a day off anyway…

There was a young man from Bangkok
who had a remarkable clock.
It kept perfect time,
had a beautiful chime,
and at midnight it knitted a sock.

  • Post Category:Napowrimo