Mark Heathcote
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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
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- 819 reads
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.
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- 764 reads
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.
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- 702 reads
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
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- 917 reads
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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- 1215 reads