Stuart Miller-Osborne

You are sitting at my typewriter typing a letter to me You have removed your shirt and your breasts are punctuating I do not care for your punctuation but I am enjoying the spectacle      

On the 6th of June 1612 the Philippe Virginie set off on her voyage of discovery. She had been at sea for one year and one hundred and thirty one days when she spotted an island. As night was falling the captain ordered that she should weigh anchor for the night However due to the […]

How sweet you smell as you piss in this wood of bluebells But I am not fooled as I know that winter will soon be upon us and thou will not smell as sweet then     attributed  to Amos Derrikk (1566-1649)  

Thou wishes me on a dungheap wrapped in silks belonging liquefying slowly     attributed  to Amos Derrikk (1566-1649)    

  Wiltshire Landscape hang clouds threading time leading hills breaking cover the night is near   Bath Babel Bath   Today I had to walk solo, lost in the incredible street music of the city. I recorded the visit on my humble camera as my rumble trace memories were beginning to fade   Mondrian and […]

in a field of clutching buttercups lola cola wrote to edward patterson reminding him of his duty some distance away her lover counted the yellow flowers in blocks of ten at two minutes before three in the afternoon lola cola accepted a sarsaparilla from a passing magpie    

I met her on the Day of Psalms Selling tea to passing strangers   As I sat on the café wall I thought of my childhood in India   The tea seller had also been raised in India But unlike me did not take milk in her tea    

Dry Chameleon On a street in Bristol I met a woman With a dry chameleon In her pocket It had not rained that day   Taken Away by Carl In Exeter I met a man named Carl He removed the flowers From my summer fields And the clouds From the warm skies I was left […]

The lazy star that hovers above the place Shows you seldom fair of face   Do not let the cold maidens low of purse Include you rigid within their curse     Thrust a sword though her rotten heart She begs you do  my friend apart   In 1823 a Miss Claire Clairmount was given […]

The three diaries of Joanna the Mad only came to light when my cleaner found them in an infant cupboard when searching for a cleaning agent They did not tell me much about the mad queen with the exception that she was not mad but a reverse poet She wrote a floral poem, Jogjakarta (now […]