Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryShe wolf Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryOh what do you really, quietly, feel? Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryThe strumpet Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryLove is a window starlit bright Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryOur love is like a little Jenny wren Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryMy heart is a cactus flower Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryMy heart once a butterfly Mark Heathcote112 years 1 month ago
StoryPrudence Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryMy heart once a butterfly Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryThere’s a rose in thistle called love Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryThe world is a feather within your palm Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryQuestions of adultery Mark Heathcote112 years 1 month ago
StoryThe juryman hammers! Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryOde to a catfish Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryLove you’ve got beauty Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryOnce shone and stood for us all Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StorySo many words but only one! “love”? Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryTogether there is music Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryUniform of scares Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StorySea of empty space Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryTimes immoral guest Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StorySpick and span leather shoes Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
Storytriangular Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryLanguage is the kingdom Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago
StoryTo seed the steps of heaven Mark Heathcote012 years 1 month ago

My stories

Gentle as a lamb the entire world airbrushed

The setting sun was in and around turquoise blue Before; the clouds roar—thundered thorough. …We were playing football, with a puffball fungus When, sapling willows shook with such a ruckus.

Oh didn’t the year fly by…

Children its safe - Santa won’t catch alight Look the yule logs they're now burning twice as bight As is this spirit refreshed with ice Or is it granddads dancing - beyond price.

I am but a shadow

I am but a shadow without substance I cannot cling to flesh or to the suns embers I am but the flame yet not extinguished I cannot dance amongst the moving waters

Full breakfast…

Fried bread, Lord, who’s still not; been fed. Not me a little voice said… Who said that? A park duck! Or some hard luck Indian fatherless kid. Eggs and bacon, God, is there, no!

The mighty have to fall…

Purges are needed in a forest: The strongest have to fall and com-bust. In-order for the weakest the poorest To grow - regenerate their lushness… —They need a whole new subsistence:

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