Stuart Miller-Osborne

The concussion of a passing shell Blew the dust from an English lane As I brushed it from my clothes You passed me for the final time

When the sun rises in my room it sets in my brother’s room When I close a book I know it will not be opened again If the moon appears during the day it is often ignored I have come to accept his fact My brother Phillip said I am the apocalypse as he shot […]

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

Lies not in Westminster Abbey as previously thought but on the Wiltshire/Berkshire borders under an elm tree long gone Nearby Belgium Canaries trace their footsteps on the card crisp paths searching for the land of peacocks but they find only dust The black eyes gazelles offer their assistance but are refused so they return to […]

In the estuary of the forest a man taller than I spoke to me Lay in the humble undergrowth and hear the heartbeat of the world I was of youthful years and had never considered the pulse beneath me You are the younger but in time you will know more never doubt me And with […]

shine brightly and sleep the night has arrived close your eyes and wait for the disguise of the morning when we will dance

You drift in your cold poetry in the dark winds where none can see your prefect form   In this kingdom of diamonds who but I will celebrate your exhibition ?   Qanik  (Snowflake)   1990  

with earlier permissions we walked the highest roads and before we rested again we witnessed together the ceremonies of our desire

let us walk these pleasure paths and search for the dust of friends for above the sorcery of the wall trees there lies a solemn heaven

I look in fever at the white white white wastes that surround me knowing that only the stars will know where I rest and that the suspension of the years is only the smooth trap of my recollection   1970