Sound of Gulls at Twilight: A Passage

At evening, waves crash
their heavy back beat on sand—
wild as pipes you rise,
skirl free of music’s syntax
and tremble white into night

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Gulls, John MacKenzie, Micropoetry, Music, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Tanka, The Sea and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Mumble back at me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s