Stuart Miller-Osborne

The trees had lied I knew of their fictions The cheerful plains Course in their whispers Had told me so

In a shaft of light the dust fairies hover and I am illuminated once more through these coloured windows   Her fine fabric air now flirts playfully as she hints at the perfume of her hidden form     2000

The sunlight shone through the upper deck Of the morning bus And illuminated The river from within

I live by the great sun occasionally surfacing to observe the triple martyrs as they bathe their wounds in the springs of their sleep   White are the passing carriages that house the famine poor on their journeys of melt   By arrangement I will meet them as they sup at the pole tables I…

I found her weeping Near the Inn of the Marshes Amongst the miserable springtime flowers Code Name I invited her to share a meal Menu Above the wetlands With its ditches dug deep The Rice Butterflies Sing on the spring-wing-king Of the seasons ring My lady was ambushed All stars are black But none as…

In the lost walks of the meadow he hid under the future trees and the cedars of the dead The pink blossoms of the warm sky have enjoyed his gentle alms and I will find the once window of his stoop   2001  

Your feather fingers turn the plain pages as the sewn boats travel on inland seas and the wounds unoccupied will bleed again

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

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

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…