owl is my favourite. who flies like a nothing through the night, who-whoing. is a feather duster in...

Owl

is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twice

you hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull

if you could? ...........

George MacBeth

....................... Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,

working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands

on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. ...................................

.................. For a meal in the day

flew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branch

in the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

Owl

is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twice

you hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull

if you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,

working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands

on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the day

flew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branch

in the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

George MacBeth

Owl

is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twice

you hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull

if you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,

working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands

on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the day

flew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branch

in the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

VISUAL PUNS

Owl

is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twice

you hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull

if you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,

working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands

on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the day

flew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branch

in the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

ONOMATOPOEIA

Owl

is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twice

you hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull

if you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,

working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands

on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the day

flew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branch

in the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

Owl

is my favourite. Who flieslike a nothing through the night,who-whoing. Is a featherduster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ingboles of mice. Twice

you hear him call. Whois he looking for? You hearhim hoovering over the floorof the wood. O would you be goldrings in the driving skull

if you could? Hooded andvulnerable by the winter sunsowl looks. Is the grain of barkin the dark. Round beaks are atwork in the pellety nest,

working. Owl is an eyein the barn. For a holein the trunk owl's bloodis to blame. Black talons in thepetrified fur! Cold walnut hands

on the case of the brain! In the reignof the chicken owl comes likea god. Is a goad inthe rain to the pink eyes,dripping. For a meal in the day

flew, killed, on the moor. Sixmouths are the seed of hisarc in the season. Torn meatfrom the sky. Owl livesby the claws of his brain. On the branch

in the sever of the hand'stwigs owl is a backward look.Flown wind in the skin. FineRain in the bones. Owl breaksLike the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

DEATH IMAGERY