Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie316 years 2 months ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf916 years 3 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote116 years 5 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A316 years 6 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 9 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 9 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 10 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer217 years 4 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 7 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 8 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 11 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote217 years 11 months ago

My stories

Wear on the same gargoyle face

In the corner of a shop doorway Did I see the canvas of life? Preening its self with claws, tightly, frappe. Feet wrapt in dead, wildlife: One nonchalantly, above the other

Nicknames for Aislinn

She was born a bald little lassie Long and thin and ever so pretty 6 lbs and 8 oz if memory serves me well She was slender and strong as gazelle.

To call upon the winds dust

Today is but a sore parting gift of tears To call upon the winds dust—his oil-lamp spirit! Such seas suspended in her dew-lit spheres: His imminence; her acumens dispirit.

Whatever creation is

No time to judge The flowers the dust Whatever creation is, It is imbued with love. And must! Have the good- Sense to fly like a dove. No time for ill will But lust corrupts

wars tug of love

Lust weighs heavily upon each breast With a heavier heart and soul A serpent coils around to ingest The spirit that is more than a pinhole Enactor awaiting the embroiders

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