The stone library & The House of Birdsong's near Misnomer
by Nathan Thompson
[ poetry - march 10 ]
The stone library
I call my
house a castle
because I have done with my castle.
Evening creeps
dearer
as fairy dust. This is
a reflection
on the moon
in the moat yesterday night,
which was similar to other nights
but more shiny because of the moon.
Outside the
castle a man
with one eye feels threatened
as if he has
turned away from
too often with a dismissive look.
It is simply
the time before
voiced over the water.
The House of Birdsong's near Misnomer
I am forced to
retract my statement about sadness.
The apiaries are full of tiny counter examples
confusedly
singing, as if they were somewhere else
less densely populated.
This is my handshake. Feel it wiggle like your tail.
Unexpected. The bus slides in on time: an anticipated present.
