Stuart Miller-Osborne

It is almost impossible to guess where driftwood originates The same cannot be said about the origins of soft pink bears    

On a sunny day in August 1977 Jane purchased a soft pink bear From a hairdressers in Dartmouth   Earlier that day I had found A piece of driftwood On Slapton Sands   I still have the driftwood But the soft pink bear Was lost in August 1995

I was asked to leave the building Before I entered no reason was given   You Smiled   As you sank deeper into the rubbish That was slowly collecting around you

Finnish Girl never start what you cannot finnish   I intend to put this play on play in each phone box I find in Folkestone     Eating Greek Food Jane and I visited the harbour arm in Folkestone Whilst we were there We found the blue Santorini bus As we were hungry we purchased…

You will always be fond of me  I represent to you all the sins  You never had the courage to commit   I wrote this quote from dear Oscar on an envelope As I crouched near your summer house Shitting You had fucked me off for many months with your snobbery I know that you…

High above the beach with extensive views out to sea This beautiful promenade is quite quite stunning  It was designed by Decimus Burton  The gentleman architect    That is how I started my letter to you You had sent me a letter two weeks previously Home Thoughts From Abroad  Which detailed your missionary work In…

on the harbour arm not far from the former signal box i found a dead fish quite how it got there was a mystery as it had no right to be on the quayside in death this was the first time that i had ever seen a dead fish maggot wretched staring out to sea…

The Indians have left the plains Only their ghosts remain They will not leave       Graffiti Folkestone Kent August 2021

Whether I see you is dependant on the tides But if my understanding is correct Then I should be able to see you today I will be able to stand next to you Naked Jane will photograph our bums Iron Flesh Identical But the flesh is weak It feels the chill wind I will soon…

From the deck of my white ship I can see scores of white buses On the lanes that lead to the coast They are always there waiting   At night I can see illuminated carousels Spinning wildly in the winter winds Nobody is riding the stationary horses And as a sailor I have become used…