Stuart Miller-Osborne

A Break of Mermaids a break of mermaids posed for a Victorian artist they had been paid well and had been entered into a draw the first prize being a trip to the pyramids   Exit Snow said the directions but he stayed on stage and sang in a falsetto manner to an appreciative audience […]

Nothing betrays history as much as lies I will not open your book I will not correspond please do not write to me Do not arrange my travel as I will never arrive Denial is as raw as the act itself I will always see the dourness of your jewels A guilty man will always […]

I will not guess at your fortune as you gather together staring vacantly at me   My camera will record the lies of your displacement and you will tell me   That Christ is sometimes wrong    

On the way to Lulworth Mike and Penny occasioned a tea house That sold nothing but Boswell’s London Journal 1762-1763 A fifties edition Signed by the Queen The teahouse was called Review Riva And was on the main Weymouth Road Mike was assembling notes For a book that he intended to write It would be […]

Was the name of a band Deeply into the Blues and Elliptical Rock Their names were Josh Josh Josh & Josh They were managed by their sister Annie With whom they slept On Tuesdays and Thursdays Each Sunday they went to church To pray for the souls Of the miners who died And returned refreshed […]

Just as the Profumo newspapers Were hitting the street A young boy In a blue van Was being driven towards The Post Office Tower The van stopped suddenly And the young boy Banged his head On the driving mirror He decided not to die that day He slumped back Bloodied Into the passenger seat Dreaming […]

Later in my life I crossed the road That led to the sea And spotted a Jimi Hendrix poster In an orange tenement window    

With careless confusion The die was cast Not in the bluebell woods Or the flat orchards But in the poor water Near the aged bridge    

As I crossed the southern bridge I saw the turning tide tired yellow Illuminate the bathing sun I saw the Manchester boats Seeking the night Their silken crews asleep Barking in madness At the perfect passing howling air Turned yellow    

a casual visitor one noted that the sunset occasioned the involvement of cloud and rivers far away