Sunday, 9 September 2007

Sunday Prompts at 2111

Mother, may I?

An old man sits netting

From a train, boys in a field

This road holds no surprises

I remember thick cream, purloined from silver milk-churns

The president presumes all Americans are moral imbeciles

He chucked it all in, just left one day.


I have abandoned the dream kitchen for a low fire

Let me describe it

They are fourteen weeks on Tuesday

A woman drawing, light


Cowslip, Marsh Mangold, a boot

I bought a dollar and a half's worth of small red potatoes


Nobody in the lane and nothing, nothing but blackberries

Every year you said it wasn't worth the trouble

It is a recommended exercise, bitter homework.

They will try to silence the press.

It is perfectly all right to continue killing those gooks

Betsy, I am tired.

Here, one can see Oliver Reed's testicles impaled

Since it is absurd to weep, I can only laugh.

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