What did you say to me?
No the first bit, the first bit.
What?
He did what?
Who was that?
What are you talking about?
No the first bit, the first bit.
What?
He did what?
Who was that?
What are you talking about?
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one
pale rose on a pale green stem above all of the rest a mushy dead crimson mess a nebulous clot of material love a red bed to leak pale virginity on to when all of the princes are gone from dreams fairytales of castles like trees towering on water so murky it has no reflection (the dull brown table beneath) . She met Harry before the war, he was a colour-mixer.
What's the fish this morning? |
AboutThis blog was created as part of the 'Writing and Experiment' module in UCC's Creative Writing Department. I hope to develop it as an experiment in poetry and blogging - feedback and creative comments very welcome. Archives
March 2015
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