INDEX

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

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