INDEX

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

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