INDEX

INDEX was published in 2021 by zimZalla, you can find out more about it and buy it here.

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For Heaven's Sake
the King of their city was a ghool;
families with low incomes are buying
remember a pleasant materialistic painter.
I Try to conceal my tender gifts
The young grey squirrel
Br-r-r-r, it's cold outside-
cold and cruel newspaper reports
From off your table take the right sort of books
another nicely behaved snake
Another jerk dictates the gin-sodden gabble of the town
a solid-hearted lettuce has a trifling mind
mother is very proud of her large stone intellect
What's the idea this time?
cut up potatoes for soup
trouble with false hearted lovers
fly over the lawn at dusk.
I'm thinking of the man
I used to go and comb the mountains
how was one to get used to SCHOOL?
good luck London
look Think of a number
dreaming of the golden days darling.
I should like to show you
an isolated queen woke up
make one little pile of haunting sadness
Tired of working in the kitchen?
in a world
no actual tabletop cooking is involved
black stone, NOTES black gloves
A hat should give you a feeling
This is a tremendous screaming opportunity
The old woman had a cocky air
self-consciously picturesque
I don't want to go into the details
Let us construct a typical London at noon
across the city for a day and a night
we went to the country
refine your picture-gallery
A gondola rowed by a lone ghost
my money has a firm handshake
long-dead She rose
women should never wear chopped ham or blotted paper
hearing the devil
Here we go
be shy of the coffee
you ask me why I'm depressed!
Are you gilt furniture in the slanting sunlight?
In times like these, perform the can-can
The problem of the day-by-day fondue hostess
Blend the entire sky with feelings of anger and sadness
smooth and important
If you have a big fat turkey cock
You will need a watery sun.
Pretend you lived before
make an experiment
He laid his damp palm on the frozen face of nature
the mist-enveloped landscape
artists all over the world
the humble noble apple
after sundown
in the dooming times of retreat
poetry can be produced in a dark cupboard
call a spade an immense chandelier children
the dead man sat alone in the library
gentian-spangled sugar and shaky experience
place a tea wagon at one end of the earth
sleep off the brandy, speak the truth
the close-packed clouds play the guitar
Start by using a crumpled paper towel
deeply constant are the feelings In the little cup
You have turmoils
I would like to thank Van Gogh for the tap on the nut
a sensible girl witnessing the integration of the bride
Why not Make a large, flat, decorative wall map?
run, jump, you are approaching a divinity.
There's nothing like four rather vain attics
you are in an orchard, Some time after midnight
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