Stuart Miller-Osborne

  • Introduction
Illustration of a bird flying.
  • Saint Eulalia

    She lies there still slain by the kiss of a centurion sword and looks in awe at the angel tears frozen in the flight of an ascending dove   2001

    December 14, 2013
  • The Womb

    I search in vain for the umbilical but find only the lies of my false mother the fer-de-lance will nourish the lucky ones and I will be spared the glimpses of the casual as I feed quietly

    December 14, 2013
  • The Refreshment Room

    Dearest Bessie I dreamt last night of your refreshment room before you burnt it down. It is run by a Madame Carvalho now and is open threehundredandsixtyfour days a year twentyfour hours a day (except Fridays).When the leap year occurred last year she was so pleased that she divorced her husband and served limestone cakes […]

    December 14, 2013
  • The Baptist

    The avian civil wars showed no signs of age. Each battle was as fresh as its predecessor Of all wars, civil wars are the most bloody High causalities had been suffered on both sides In a corner of the aviary away from the conflict there ran a small river, shallow but with a fast flow […]

    December 14, 2013
  • The Hollow Trees

    If I cross the fault line of your love will you guide me as I explore your geography? I will build a raft from your stricken bark and sail amongst you The neutral light of the stars will guide me I am everything without you but will not leave     On the road leading […]

    December 14, 2013
  • The Lovers

    In our antiquity we will witness your birth in the house of our nativity     In late 2011 the skeletons of a man and a woman were unearthed in Italy. There were in the position of embrace.

    December 14, 2013
  • Soft History

    I have hidden my history in a box of fruit you will not find me

    December 14, 2013
  • Lift 41

    h o s e w h o i g n o r e   t h e c u r v e o f t h e s k y     v w  e   i    r            b e s                  e l                                          a l                                            t n                                             e e                                              d           […]

    December 14, 2013
  • Beach

    on the pale reflected sands the reclining sea leaves no fine tracery

    December 14, 2013
  • Pipistrello

    You haunt the caverns of the seven hills oblivious to your musical name but hum the chants of the nocturnal as you weep at the news of the spring.     1975

    December 14, 2013
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Stuart Miller-Osborne

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