Tiny Stories

My Dear Paralysis Do you dream of caves, cold and dismal, Deeply buried far abyssal, In utter trance, black as the lakes, ...

Light shines upon that river free, And incandescently bright; A Moravian forest scene Trapped within my head at night. We used to hide, ...

My croft is at sea, With my fishes And my own sense of blasphemy. Damn you, pale nebula, My navigation Is by polyp and medusa. When t...

These emotions are illusions;  an opaque mask.  Giving head on my sick-bed,  now the phlegm's passed.  Sensitive, your legs quiver,  and...

I am writing to inform you, cur, of your utter lack of gall; your deficiency of stoic grit, and your flaccid, whiny pall. Your tendency...

Oh, if I were elected, the environment would be respected with a focus on flood defences; we'd fill sandbags digging trenches in...

Friendship groups are in constant threat of destruction by utterly terrible motherfuckers. These specimens are invariably interesting a...