master of the hunt so many buttons reading, reflecting, the usual rigmarole   onto Red Square turned his back to the lilacs the rudeness awaited of a belfry window the size of a chessboard doleful eight a great conniving on the docks of Peterhof ‘must learn to say goodbye’ father’s twice tolling clock   the(…)

long lines of bugs marched all day largely foreigners at twenty-five centimes a sock six liters on Saturday’s   he declaims that shiver the stones   a piece of bad luck the thing you knew your food is bread and margarine food insulting you only food   no clothes hardly ever without writing is bosh(…)

– continued – Staying On by Paul Scott The Longest Journey by E.M. Forster Where Angels fear to Tread by E.M.Forster Mother’s and Sons by Colm Tóibín A Fighting Chance by Elizabeth Warren New Ways to Kill your Mother by Colm Tóibín The Blue Flower by Penelope Fitzgerald Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy(…)

why not a school rain is just the thing be frank, white in need could slap time with people who despise you rare snout-mouth fish

sweetness gives way to stench

lay like scales on my eyes a traveler would be hurrying being made comfortable uncle pulling my curls a rope let down from heaven gusts of memory rooms in winter or lodging ‘that is not the way’ take a mental share unable to guide it back studied the envelope for five minutes loosely-knotted every useless(…)

the more stray memories on nothing much who stole my yellow bicycle four years dead like many idlers this street quarter of anywhere cuffs turn backwards Whistler etchings   boiling up in vast ignorant, impudent the most remarkable, inexplicable   another father any son dead when he was eight days old unrelenting hatred had ten(…)