Stuart Miller-Osborne

I am an unnamed actress I was born in France I am quite popular As I am rather beautiful In a French manner Many men and women Want to see me naked Which is very nice But this is only ever Going to be a desire As although I am no prude I do not…

Whenever I am in Canterbury I always think of you Jane In your large white apartment Opposite the ornate Metro station   Do you think of me studying Here in the city of the pilgrims Or are you forever distracted By the soft perfumes of Paris  

Hello Outlaw here I am in Lima She sends her regards   Anna Anna Did you see Outlaw’s post No He says that he is in Lima Good for Lima   Anna I am trying to sleep Outlaw seems happy ANNA I AM TRYING TO SLEEP   Anna What There is someone in the house…

Great Big Green Pictures Of Green Was my best friend at Cambridge We studied together and travelled together And both married identical twins   We now jointly teach mathematics In adjoining schools in the city Where our husbands also teach My name is I N A  M O N    

Today I purchased a footstool From a disused church And decided to photograph it On a railway platform   I waited for a train to arrive On the opposite platform And photographed the footstool I immediately regretted my decadence   Decadence 2 It later occurred to me That the train and the footstool Would never…

Many years ago during my time as cleaner I killed two men The first was a prick who was working late At the company offices of Tin Alley I had just finished emptying the bins When he threw his soda can into the receptacle I ignored his idiocy until he called me across Now I…

in col cheater ….decorated footstools are maDe vaarious desuGns are acaoliable all arE hanNs Maid By ceatnen oldd and YOung it iS a familly ruun busssiness Founded in 1894v

You haunt me You have always haunted me Ever since I read the sonnets Raven hair and milk breasts You follow me in all my movements   What are you doing Anna Writing a poem Are you trying to impress Outlaw He is in Peru   Then are you trying to impress the TEA BAG…

I like silk flowers As their beauty remains Long after others have died They ask for so little in return During the slow journeys Of their changing seasons

Yesterday whilst walking along the promenade I saw a man so ugly that beauty shuddered Bent forward with eyes flat to his face He stared at the rough path without emotion This hunched creature might have cried So cruel was his life full of blame But his feelings inert for many years Grew softer under…