gri_2003_m_46_b05_f06_003
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.053
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.03
- Image votes: 0.33
Transcribers
- 69736696 - jesseytucker
- WINNER - 69918552 - gailkoelker
- 70073410 - Rainbobrite
- 70497316 - mlesullivan
- 70962032 - altheist
- 71550604 - jessdexter
69736696 - jesseytucker
THE LANGUAGEWit is finished but the words of hands
Red from the sun and muddy from the farm
Are signposts on a curving road that point
Westwards to a place-name in the south.
Weather-saws harry the future, imply
Subterfuge and nuance in the present:
Oracles and repetitions hide
In sticky seaweed and the squatting cows.
THE CLOUDS
The birds do one thing, the air another:
Stereotyped trees lean down the hills of wind
And clouds betray the invisible air.
Popular responses to the clouds
Are old men above the attic, beards,
Alps and maps, even symbolist nuages.
Pillows for zephyrs and the displaced,
Baroque curtains for martians, phenomena
Related to the hot air and the cold.
THE MARSHES
Where fish hovered and weed rose
Footpaths are almost lost in shit and grass.
There are gates-at man-made intervals
Along the Royal Military Canal.
These rocks crowned with trees
Were submarine: the sea
Is nearly half a mile away.
Listen, it sighs through unseen shells of air.
THE BEACH
Now as the tide rolls up,
The space I bathed in is revealed,
Sleek sand and well-ground stones,
Seaweed draped along the slant,
And green stakes twisted in the air.
I hung there off the ground
Where now I hobble on pebbles.
I look up from my feet, to surf,
Then to the distant sliding sips
In easy motion on the blurred horizon.
WINNER - 69918552 - gailkoelker
THE LANGUAGEWit is finished but the words of hands
Red from the sun and muddy from the farm
Are signposts on a curving road that point
Westwards to a place-name in the south.
Weather-saws harry the future, imply
Subterfuge and nuance in the present:
Oracles and repetitions hide
In sticky seaweed and the squatting cows.
THE CLOUDS
The birds do one thing, the air another:
Stereotyped trees lean down the hills of wind
And clouds betray the invisible air.
Popular responses to the clouds
Are old men above the attic, beards,
Alps and maps, even symbolist nuages
Pillows for zephyrs and the displaced,
Baroque curtains for martians, phenomena
Related to the hot air and the cold.
THE MARSHES
Where fish hovered and weed rose
Footpaths are almost lost in shit and grass.
There are gates-at man-made intervals
Along the Royal Military Canal.
These rocks crowned with trees
Were submarine: the sea
Is nearly half a mile away.
Listen, it sighs through unseen shells of air.
THE BEACH
Now as the tide rolls up,
The space I bathed in is revealed,
Sleek sand and well-ground stones,
Seaweed draped along the slant,
And green stakes twisted in the air.
I hung there off the ground
Where now I hobble on pebbles.
I look up from my feet, to surf,
Then to the distant sliding ships
In easy motion on the blurred horizon.
70073410 - Rainbobrite
The LanguageWit is finished by the words of hands
Red from the sun and muddy from the farm
Are signposts on a curving road that point
Westwards to a place-name in the south.
Weather-saws harry the future, imply
Subterfuge and nuance in the present:
Oracles and repetitions hide
In sticky seaweed and the squatting cows.
The Clouds
The birds do one thing, the air another:
Stereotyped trees lean down the hills of wind
And clouds betray the invisible air.
Popular responses to the clouds
Are old men above the attic, beards,
Alps and maps, even sybolist nuages.
Pillows for zephyrs and the displaced,
Baroque curtains for martians, phenomena
Related to the hot air and the cold.
The Marshes
Where fish hovered and weed rose
Footpaths are almost lost in shit and grass.
There are gates at man-made intervals
Along the Royal Military Canal.
These rocks crowned with trees
Were submarine: the sea
Is nearly half a mile away.
Listen, it sighs through unseen shells of air.
The Beach
Now as the tide rolls up,
The space I bathed in is revealed,
Sleek sand and well-ground stones,
Seaweed draped along the slant,
And green stakes twisted in the air.
I hung there off the ground
Where now I hobble on pebbles.
I look up from my feet, to surf,
Then to the distant sliding ships
In easy motion on the blurred horizon.
70497316 - mlesullivan
THE LANGUAGEWit is finished but the words of hands
REd from the sun and muddy from the farm
Are signposts on a curving road that point
Westwards to a place-name in the south.
Weather-saws harry the future, imply
Subterfuge and nuance in the present:
Oracles and repetitions hide
In sticky seaweed and the squatting cows.
THE CLOUDS
The birds do one thing, the air another:
Stereotyped trees lean down the hills of wind
And clouds betray the invisible air
Popular responses in the clouds
Are old men above the attic, beards,
Alps and maps, even symbolist nuages.
Pillows for zephyrs and the displaced,
Baroque curtains for martians, phenomena
Related to the hot air and the cold.
THE MARSHES
Where fish hovered and weed rose
Footpaths are almost lost in shit and grass.
There are gates at man-made intervals
Along the Royal Military Canal.
These rocks crowned with trees
Were submarine: the sea
Is nearly half a mile away.
Listen, it sighs through the unseen shells of air.
THE BEACH
Now as the tide rolls up,
The space I bathed in is revealed,
Sleek sand and well-grounded stones,
Seaweed draped along the slant,
And green stakes twisted in the air.
I hung there off the ground
Where now I hobble on the pebbles.
I look up from my feet, to surf,
Then to the distant sliding ships
In easy motion on the blurred horizon.
70962032 - altheist
THE LANGUAGEWit is finished but the words of hands
Red from the sun and muddy from the farm
Are signposts on a curving road that point
Westwards to a place-name in the south.
Weather-saws harry the future, imply
Subterfuge and nuance in the present:
Oracles and repetitions hide
In sticky seaweed and the squatting cows.
THE CLOUDS
The birds do one thing, the air another:
Stereotyped trees lean down the hills of wind
And clouds betray the invisible air.
Popular responses to the clouds
Are old men above the attic, beards,
Alps and maps, even symbolist nuages.
Pillows for zephyrs and the displaced,
Baroque curtains for martians, phenomena
Related to the hot air and the cold.
THE MARSHES
Where fish hovered and weed rose
Footpaths are almost lost in shit and grass.
There are gates at man-made intervals
Along the Royal Military Canal.
These rocks crowned with trees
Were submarine: the sea
Is nearly half a mile away.
Listen, it signs through unseen shells of air.
THE BEACH
Now as the tide rolls up,
The space I bathed in is revealed,
Sleek sand and well-ground stones,
Seaweed draped along the slant,
And green stakes twisted in the air.
I hung there off the ground
Where now I hobble on pebbles.
I look up from my feet, to surf,
Then to this distant sliding ships
In easy motion on the blurred horizon.
71550604 - jessdexter
THE LANGUAGEWit is finished but the words of hands
Red from the sun and muddy from the farm
Are signposts on a curving road that point
Westwards to a place-name in the south.
Weather-saws harry the future, imply
Subterfuge and nuance in the present:
Oracles and repetitions hide
In sticky seaweed and the squatting cows.
THE CLOUDS
The birds do one thing, the air another:
Stereotyped trees lean down the hills of wind
And clouds betray the invisible air.
Popular responses to the clues
Are old men above the attic, beards,
Alps and maps, even symbolist nuages.
Pillows for zephyrs and the displaced,
Baroque curtains for martians, phenomena
Related to the hot air and the cold.
THE MARSHES
Where fish covered and weed rose
Footpaths are almost lost in shit and grass.
There are gates at man-made intervals
Along the Royal Military Canal.
These rooks crowned with trees
Were submarine: the sea
Is nearly half a mile away.
Listen, it sighs through unseen shells of air.
THE BEACH
Now as the tide rolls up,
The space I bathed in is revealed,
Sleek sand and well-ground stones,
Seaweed draped along the slant,
And green stakes twisted in the air.
I hung there off the ground
Where now I hobble on pebbles.
I look up from my feet, to surf,
Then to the distant sliding ships
In easy motion on the blurred horizon.