Stuart Miller-Osborne

Dixon O’Donahue was the youngest of the two travellers   As he journeyed north he played cards with his friend who remained nameless   They played for provincial stakes as they were both careless with their decks   When in Morecambe Dixon won The Morar Sands but lost them later in Preston   His favourite […]

Chesney Wold is shut up, carpets are rolled into great scrolls in comfortless rooms Yet the blinds are raised and sunlight streams into the rooms readings will take place In all parts of the window were quantities of dirty bottles I live in a world without glass, the winds ravage my endless days I drink […]

The white powder flowers faded into the dating dusk as the returning fishermen raised their black linen flags they watched as we danced in front of their ragged homes      

She floats by in a coan dress hunting the scatter flowers of her pre history   Her light songs stir only the infant silt that obscures the calm passage of her sudden grace   1980    

In the distance of the harsh light blank bonfires consume the winter air and the open dead lust for the cruel carrion drift of the long year   1985    

The limp lion light Scatters the autumn leaves    

Here is the summary of my refreshment I will write this as I describe the geography of your voice to the creators of farce whose normal lives inspire me    

Taunton Station 1 A black cat looked at a glass of red wine in the sun lounge at the station it considered the feelings of the grapes as they were crushed I have arranged the seeds of these unfortunate grapes on the platform in remembrance     Taunton Station 2 If you sleep in the rest […]

I was destroyed by those phoney shells as boys, far from home fought their mirror wars   After the screaming storms had breached my peaceful line only the sands cared to remember my history   Slapton Sands (August 1999)    

High in the tropics under a cathedral of trees busy angels admire the slenderness of ladders as they discharge their ministry   a mysterious sculptor carves the light into a thousand pieces   and a choir knocks at a dark door pleading for entry as the children create the rebus of their years   in […]