Saturday, August 16, 2008

Prompts For Sunday

My father, crying in St Mary’s
I am worn out with dreams
My love, I never spoke to her, but she heard every word
Smoke in the Valley
I am a man now
Al night in submarine light
My hands are red with the blood of the dead
I think about the FBI
We drove fast, singing, playing the Stones
I know that I shall meet my fate
He was a schoolmaster
Agnes fiddling with her rosary
Tread softly
A boy like a ballet dancer, poised
Oh love and you so far away
I draw your attention to the window
A sadness of penguins
Hair pale as a breath
If I should love a fat lady
Somewhere, on the other side of this wasted night
I took my son’s girlfriend home
How delightful it may be
Losing is fairly easy
I lost my father in Waitrose
My friends rise up and chant
Yellow pissholes in the snow
I can name them all
Television and other necessities
Passing bells
My daughter is drawing a picture
We can get so far in this world
I once bathed in a bath full of eels
Time is a bastard
Shall I compare thee to a Lamborgini?
Isobel from the estate kissed me
When all this is over, I’ll retire
It’s a shame about the shadow
At night I do not know who I am
I walk through your rooms, wondering
I am acquainted with the dark

No comments: