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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryBurning AmyC18 years 9 months ago
StoryI Cry, You Speak Richard L. Prov...28 years 9 months ago
StoryI don't Daniel Saint-John98 years 9 months ago
StoryStorm Silver Spun Sand188 years 9 months ago

My stories


This poem has been removed following its entry into a competition.

Nether Hambleton

only its name preserving its shape in a ashen cobweb of sound, wistful and delicious as if heard whispered on a marsh wind.

To Suburbia

Garden toys, algaed; ponds putrid with dank leaves; door slams echoing for want of company, and a world home to the busiest, sullenest most double- yoked nothingness I have ever known.
Gold cherry

Edinburgh Buses

And as evening weighs its tender jaw on lambent streets, now bristling with twilight enterprise my gaze again meets the bus’s...

For Sale

bolder and deeper with the seasonless months...