Birdsong
This is the first draft of my workshop poem from the other day. We looked at David Morley's poetry on birds and then went out onto campus to write from life. I couldn't actually see any birds so I wrote about the songs coming from the trees instead.
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Empty trees pierce netted.
Lancing, pipping squeaks between the bark,
Stark mouse-screams whetting peace in the shrill fall
between horizons, escalations.
Dew tremors
Creep tones,
crenillations,
cheeped
lemon sugar speaking not shouting
sharpening talking
tossing marbles of sounds
of warbles and seeds,
bright,
wobbling light
between shiverings
sliced
slow over the tips of the wood.
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