Bat's Ultrasound

Sleeping-bagged in a duplex wing
with fleas, in rock-cleft or building
radar bats are darkness in miniature,
their whole face one tufty crinkled ear
with weak eyes, fine teeth bared to sing.

Few are vampires. None flit through the mirror.
Where they flutter at evening's a queer
tonal hunting zone above highest C.
Insect prey at the peak of our hearing
drone re to their detailing tee:

ah, eyrie-ire; aero hour, eh?
O'er our ur-area (our era aye
ere your raw row) we air our array
err, yaw, row wry - aura our orrery,
our eerie ü our ray, our arrow.

A rare ear, our aery Yahweh.

by Les Murray

Comments (8)

Esther, My answer is ' Yes'! Substitute Cheney and Bush , with whatever you like!
Esther, you explore a plethora of interesting time-related issues here. I like important deadline, not trivial. They excite me as well as terrifying me. But I also relish timelessness. Not aimlessly 'hanging out' but blissing out listening to Bach or 'wasting time' on this mad site. And your last stanza Ahhhhh! That I like! love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
You can write to a plan And make it all scan But while the critics whinge and fester I'll just enjoy a poem from Esther. Hugs Anna xxx
I abhor all Temporal creature double features. The face, the hands, that stressful tic, the demands to live and give a damn. And always by the commercial break, my time is up and I have to wake. - chuck, giving you a nine this time.
ya smash your clock, nice poem Esther dave xxx
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