INDEX

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

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