once in the city their forests dwindled in grim little lovely lump say, a horse fire let
Folds
Their liturgical language (verbs from Tim Mackintosh-Smith)
awake, oh were hardly helped their liturgical language rough tribesmen with loud voices is heresy name both vegetable and formal that fruit, harmony
What husband (morsels from Dorothy Ponedel/Meredith Ponedel)
work under him rosy again God dished out the top or not with Vincent and Judo shrimp as big as your head Eva Gardner and Howard Duff in blue satin in that bed of hers what husband
A cow-less road (dropping from E.M.Forster)
concealed from the road turn Parson for years to throw away bed-makers came a cow-less world into a cocked hat after a rabbit one mediocrity pure and colorless ‘wants pulling up sharply’ so chilly and cautious
Hand in hand with trouble (thorns from Thomas Hardy)
the heath or moonless midnight exhaling darkness smiling champagnes hand in hand with trouble neither whisker above mating with such as I vigor and dash
Away from Eton (peals from Georgette Heyer)
some improving tale his hackles away from Eton what nurse wants Miss Venetia, never a comfortable letter with reasssuring alacrity ‘is that all’ a day of promised treat
Cheerful fool (petals from Graham Greene)
a cheerful fool thirty-five year old face smashed dreary men in overcoats so silent went bang over Martin’s bleeding lip too many ifs long spoons an unheated room splash of ink
Port Stanley ( sheets from David Mitchell)
turn dusty toad-one a pate of browny orange in Port Stanley the last thing at night yolkie gold sick, cold, old of brink tireless, houseless, hedgeless poor Debbie oh. oh no sign one thousand things, too late six legs, thirty painted toes under the coat of Shirley Foot’s party
Meet good luck halfway (cubes from Edith Wharton)
boredom adversely tinged he strained too dark to bloom of privacy remorseful tenderness meet good luck halfway want to cramp brains never interchange of heresies always tired of her
The tide, tide (nails from Anna Badkhen)
out of the fog fingers wave limp arms along Senegal’s coastline a pale green tongue faded to pink a hammer, a knife she was here first serious smears the tide, tide
