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Dear Edinburgh, I will write you no poems to tell you how alarming familiarity is. No ways to tell about corner shops, castles, print piles guttering.

Autobiography

Certificate U

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Didn't we have a lovely time

By span on Mon, 09 Jul 2012

For Grandfather Brien Darling you are dying, your lungs are bags in treetops, your skin is bringing up antique bruises, you are saying ‘didn't we have a lovely time' on repeat,

Autobiography

Certificate U

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1065 reads

The cat waits by the fridge feet for the ring of porcelain

By span on Mon, 09 Jul 2012

And as the evening tips the light out the cup, and the wall hues bruises, she blunt thumbs on the lamp switches shoes, bends to stroke the tabby cat, her back burred in clock hands.

Autobiography

Poem

Certificate U

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In the fires of dementia

By blighters rock on Mon, 09 Jul 2012

It’s official; Mum loves it when I stroke her cheek. The moment the front of my index finger touches her skin, her eyes close, her shoulders relax, her chin quivers slightly,

Love

Certificate PG

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4918 reads

Womans Passion is soon Over

By Edenfalls on Mon, 09 Jul 2012

Panting, breathless, head thrown back in a torrent of selfless passion, she wanted me and now has opened up to the dark side within her, saying things that she dare not say to

Love

Poem

Certificate U