Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie316 years 3 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 7 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 10 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 10 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 10 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 11 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer217 years 5 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 8 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 9 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 11 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote218 years 1 week ago

My stories

Winters last apple

As the worlds dimming-dimensions Grew dimmer and hurriedly, darker. I saw a thing crimson as it sweetens? Temptations apple waxing—brighter! The hour the date I don’t remember

Windswept shadows...

A place where shadows, disassociate Themselves; from bough and leaf green stem. Where these dissolved mulches conflate! In that, that is no longer—mayhem.

Wisdom

Wisdom Looms, tempered Like a daylily blooms In bar s of iron; sleep. Wisdom wakes Like a ravenous lion. With ears of golden wheat Folded yet; into another sleep.

When winter does wrestle death

When winter does wrestle death Snow lies falling with petals bereft Her mantle a meadow white lily Uprooting stars in heavens pity. Veils of fine silk are spun to order
Cherry

The last visit and conversion…

Here lies, My grandmother… A week from: death. The archetypal grandmother Of all nursery cries Made that much, better. Here lies, My grandmother… In that week of heinous—lies,

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