Crossing Inferno

IDLER, came to senses, nowhere, tangled in a thicket.
BERTH then took on freighter, crowded among other lost souls.
ORBIT left, all is blackness dotted by sharp star light. Does he
FETCH up on new shore, new understanding? Does he find a guide?

Octal Census

OCTAL system devised by pinkie-less scribes cataloging
SAINTs. There are 100, also 64. which puts
HEFTY hit on the old cortex-you feel thickheaded like a
BISON first time you hear it, hardly stopping to wonder why the saint count is so, um, small.

Night Thoughts

NIGHT.
EVERYone harbors now those thoughts the sun could hold at bay
:
MANOR or shack, no dwelling can shelter against the tide of the night.


Note: the first and only Quordle poem to date where I used punctuation for one of the words. COMMA would also be possible.