The Spoonbill Generator

Who Causes Jetsam?

Gulls feed the sky [P]

Bridled to the forepath [Roland]

Wheeled eagerly by winter [P]

Down its piebald reach [Roland]

Climbing into the scream of the sun's mouth [P]

Filing low on the blind ebb [Roland]

Crowded by lightness [P]

Of some cobwebbed speech. [Roland]

Rock-burnt, shell-spoken [P]

Crunching down the shoreline [TG]

No cascade, yet a brittle vanguard [Roland]

Of scoured ages [P]

Ebbing from the shattered castles [TG]

Tired element, apostle [Roland]

Of the winds, in chaos [P]

When the neap-tides bellow [Roland]

Clam calm, untimely [P]

Overawed, the flotsam [Roland]

From the unlooked-for fleet [TG]

Washes no margin [Roland]

Water of time's eye [P]

Brimful, baptismal [Roland]

Drowner of the lost, the sacred [P]

Anchor's foothold [Roland]


Contributors: P, Roland, TG
Poem finished: 26th September 1997