INDEX

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

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