INDEX

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

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