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