Stuart Miller-Osborne

I spend much of my time Walking ancient paths I visit forgotten churches In bleak and obscure fields And listen to the music of the dead

I have dedicated my recent life In protection of our glorious past There are those who have cause to spoil They lack respect and will be punished I will jig on their septic remains

I slipped in my anti depressants today The one that showed my dark areolas I wore it with my brown silk pants My wife is named Morag Morag is a colourist from Scotland

I slipped in my anti depressants today The one that showed my dark areolas I wore it with my kangaroo silk pants My father was a colourist from Scotland

A stag of migrant birds Crossed the early sky You were unaware As you were dreaming Léopoldine

A few years ago I had a panic attack In a lift We were five floors up When it began to shudder Since then I have avoided lifts Either I do not travel Or take the stairs This makes life more difficult But at least I stay calm This is almost absurd in its performance…

It travels everywhere with me We share everything It sees what I see I share all my secrets With this camera It is almost as if we are married

I caught you spying on me Ben Davis As I lay in my morning bath This pleased Leonie As you now knew That I was a natural blonde Erotic Poems of Summer

The railway slices one of our most famous cornfields in half vandalism yes but I do enjoy watching the city trains pass on warm summer evenings

I walked across a market square Its stones bathed summer pale Everything was pleasing to my eye I was barefoot and could feel the town Singing merrily beneath my feet