Stuart Miller-Osborne

Blue Black Bodies Decay On the Southern Plains The War Is Over We Can All Go Home

Almost touching the sea Green Blue and White A busy garage On the edge of the world Seabrook 3/25

Josie is it true That your grandmother Flew choppers During the war With Beethoven’s Ninth Thundering out Through attached loudspeakers As villages were bombed And shot to pieces Rather like in the movie Which movie Snow White Yes Are you telling me the truth Josie No Why did you lie Because she was a fire […]

Joe is it true That your grandfather Flew choppers During the war With Beethoven’s Ninth Thundering out Through attached loudspeakers As villages were bombed And shot to pieces Rather like in the movie Which movie Snow White Yes Are you telling me the truth Joe No Why did you lie Because he was a fire […]

Joe Lucy You keep telling me to read the book What is this book Which college did you attend Kings The same college as you both of you Then I must say that I am surprised That you do not know the book You are both very difficult to interview If you ask silly questions […]

Joe many people have accused you of being racist I know Are you racist Yes Why Read the book Joe many people have accused you of disliking homosexuals I know Do you dislike homosexuals Yes Why Read the book Joe many people have accused you of disliking trans men I know Do you dislike trans […]

With Pippa is a great pleasure Especially on sweet summer evenings I look forward to her company When I return from my day in the office

I managed to break my leg playing football And because of that I was condemned To the Skool Raffia Class with all the girlie girls I was soon joined by Stevie (crusty pants) Caldwell Who had also broken his leg but in two places The art teacher Miss Dennis ran these lessons She was one […]

Warm summer evenings With friends The local cider Explorations High spirits Darkness cloaked Our nocturnal rebellion The barn still stands Much unchanged But we are no longer there And will never return

When I was younger My cousins used to sleep In the barn They would rest in the hay loft But it was memorable For all the wrong reasons As the hay contained All kinds of minute creatures Who feasted on their dreams