…that he said – if I ever reached full term – was believed as it bloomed to smooth out the suffering of delivery. He was known to serenade me in…

…– and when fire-engines got snarled in the traffic we stood at the windows and cheered. It was like the end of term or the decline of the West, what…

…solid dark at Independence Park a fourteen man string band and one green guitar rocking everybody at the gallery opening. Between broken English and beginner’s Bislama I explain to people…

…perfume or a face. Its clean string of notes obsesses me. I cannot write it down; I have no key. I can’t translate it to another code. I cannot even…

  This one winds a string of plastic parsley around the rainbow trout, punnets of squat lobster and marinated anchovy, the dish of jellied eels in which a spoon stands…

…face, moist at the mouth, pink lips, the string-of-pearls teeth – it’s softer than sawdust, softer than wolves, a tangle to tug. You will yearn to be butterfly-netted, clamber its…

…say he build by Goose Lane junction. But it rough from fabricated timber string. Picka foot jook wood like what Datsun ship in. And in this snackette he sold red…

…leaning against sandstone, bisected by the string under your shirt. I may as well take its ball of wool head in my hands and scan its pleated fringe for answers,…

…all gentle notes or wild Absorbed, transmuted and at last set free By string and bow in limpid melody. And so we leave it latent until Spring In warmth and…

…control death – Dust to dust. Muscle grip her by the neck. Yes, by the neck.? By the quick string of her neck. Soft flesh to gash and a bellow…

…edge, the long metal barrel casting a grey shadow on the green-checked cloth. At first it’s just practice: perforating tins dangling on orange string from trees in the garden. Then…

…ewes and wethers. I saw them stand By the thorn hedges, watching me string The far flocks on a shrill whistle. And always there was their eyes; strong Pressure on…

…with decorum. Perhaps reminded later by something mentioned only in passing – a large family, a cat’s toy of string – you stop smiling a moment soon. Across the table…

…for fear of electrocution and going to the kitchen to make battered oysters in a thunderstorm, retrieving my train of thought – pull just one string and the whole caboodle…

…vertical and horizontal axes! But I can’t. Need is not quite belief. All morning long I have worn your cross, hung with package string around my throat. It tapped me…