Proper Poetry

Oh hell, my house is full of squatters ! They sprawl complacently in every room, self-righteous residents like sitting tenants, sure of t...

The summer sun discards their vests to slim their thighs and sprout their breasts.

Immature it hangs its head disconsolate and drooping down; in time it swells and stiffens instead turning pale erectile brown like somet...

Guests at a wedding we joined the throng of dancers in the village hall; the bride and groom were rather long in the tooth, the guests th...

One more year consigned to the past; one less until I die; grown from an inch to an inch and a quarter in a world a hundred feet high.

Because I'm dead I have no rights but one yet he that murdered me lives on and, though in prison, still enjoys so much of what life h...

Some feminists view it with a shudder: "Does a bull get excited by a young cow's udder?"