INDEX

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

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