Saturday, May 18, 2013

Prompts on Saturday

"But ought's as far away from does as is and was leave maybe far behind"

I am in the loft searching for the junction box

The Itch of Glass Fibre

She was a hill wife and grey

Give me an "A!"

We are both too sad to be together

The mirror streaked

This is where we go when love has worn out

When there are mice in the bed

If this is the heart of the country, where is the Liver?

Your box or mine?

The foghorn like a wounded animal, wailing at the night


They pass the wine, careful not to touch

I carry a bomb, on safety. It gives me contentment.

We build for trade, batten down the tables against Christs

The price, the value of things

Strangers imagined, and strange germs, strange smells

Dawn, the sea is black with ships

TV aerials, tin-baths, scrubbing brushes, washing boards

Down by the railway, in the nettles

My sister

Two bottles a night

The simple nakedness of the sleeping

Walking cold streets, the string ever longer

"the smell of steaks in passageways"

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