My first is a letter and an insect that flies.
My second starts understanding but also unwise.
Third and fourth, a letter that’s also a drink.
Next, a vowel you say when surprised.
My last is in blinking and winking, I think.
Now gather my parts, close them together,
Like I close up the walls that hold out cold weather.
What am I?
Thursday, 16 June 2016
Wednesday, 12 January 2005
Ink Angling
Shake
my fountain pen awake!
Write in slow, careful characters
handsome miniscules, majascules ornate
and patiently wait
bide the time this way –
a mixture of calligraphy and fishing
an ink angler am I
on a great white papery sea,
luring up my sustenance, fishy stuff,
from the depths below
one
fancy
letter
at a time –
little hooks are they
to catch the words I hadn’t known I wanted to say
a letter to catch a word, a word to catch more words
A method that hasn’t failed yet:
slowly draw a letter,
artfully,
and wait
until a fresh idea floats up and bites the bait
unless a whole school comes,
and then I use a net.