Stuart Miller-Osborne

ti tip tom slow cri cap jem row aa zz lf ig ss zz on it This is electroshock This is electroshock This is electroshock ti tip tom slow cri cap jem row aa ig ss it aa bb ll zd Do not mock my electroshock Do not mock my electroshock ti tip tom slow […]

There are no roads for us to follow only the scorch marks of meteors as we travel to the stars     Written whilst visiting the Hamish Fulton exhibition at the Turner Contemporary in Margate (March 2012)

The sunbird sits on the bare branches of a winters tree and reads a book devoted to the clay fields where the itinerants now rest cared for by the decendents of clockmakers who once created time but do so no more.   When the comet moon passes an orchestra will play on its tail and […]

Dance my maidens to the solitary tunes of the ghost piper and glide gracefully into the romance of a teardrop sun.      from the Dartmoor legend of the nine maidens who were turned to stone for dancing on a Sunday  

when the natural light enters the sewer rats will sail the world, icebergs will melt and sailors will pay whores with diamonds as they wait for their illumination      

I shall not fan the flames of my neighbours house lest they consume my own. In the darkness of vision only speak with the stranger and heed his warning . I will see the construction of the white sleep in my journal of dreams. Will my pleasures continue when the battles cease or will the […]

The bargeman saw visions of paradise through the fast cloud in the mimic of the sea His narrow family recited songs of the commerce link as they passed the bridges of pedestrian burning And the flow spring danced with the lungs of the free water   2002  

When streets are sensuous dances are held lit by the recollections of his day The waters at Coate reflected the last light of the day but searched in vain for the spring stars I had travelled from Bath and when passing Liddington Hill I was much impressed by the swept snow that covered the summit. […]

I am aware of your masks Do not play games You will not fool me With your short colour   If I refuse your communion Then address me By my rest name I will not lie with you   1983

I could write that the rapid red butterflies were still on wing bringing colour to this autumn lane. But this is untrue The wind is getting colder and these insects and their splendid colours have vanished without trace It is time for a heavier coat I fear   You were working on my self portrait […]