CONFUSION SUITE sign this (can you use this?) * the grass is always greener on the other side of the screen * * 'climb out of the small print and up into the flagrant caps' * there are details you notice not getting on with it on Hollingworth lake the eights prang the rowing boats or used to (they sliced the water the cox’s nose his rudder) * sign this you could use the money or at least the soap * over amplified music/the notes each have pastry on * use the grate outdoors if you must * every thing has a vice-versa and some things only that * I can't even hallucinate straight * 'there has to be something else to account for it I mean chemicals do have a little dignity l wonder if there's a top to his head under that hat' * listen I'm not trying to prove anything and if you look at it another way * Parameters? bear in mind that rabbits are civilized and a bird in the cat is worth how much is a tin nowadays? * I'm just sitting here absorbing the echo * the rhythmic noise of a decrepit fan-heater is totally unrelated to the volume of heat it emits if kicked the tone alters only for a few seconds * his emotions fall out like village toughs he is a terrible man terrible is he a he man 'arrived while I was abroad... not sufficiently taken... during my absence is astonishing * we meet a lively bull * I thought I recognized her but she's changed/somebody else * you ought to more often then people might find out * why are you telling me these things? what do you want me to do with them? * all right night come on you bastard ...the space between thought and paper , written down ‘excuse me but is this a poultry bookshop?’ STORY ONE: THE FOLKSINGERS They wear uniform clothes that are not uniforms He strums a guitar while she sings the verses Both share bits of chorus the candlelit dinner of their song where they join at the wine much older than twelve times her years ten times his There are swords in it and maidens and a lord cuckolded in his own white-as-milk featherbed by the groom of his dapple-grey There is honour and chivalry he lets the lady die first their blood on his sword and buries them together mistress uppermost The deaths are dramatized by a flailing on the strings a fingerdance on the soundbox It works We'd like to do a love-song now whispers the girl *** two poems from a 1985 book by Stephen Oldfield, someone I had never heard of until Mr Gilonis raised his name. Our suspicion was that Harry was suggesting people just because he was the only living person who had heard of them, but in this case the poems are good and this is a name worth knowing. Indents from LH margin cannot be reproduced in this layout generator. Gilonis referred to "And those folk who slip through every net, like Andrew Lawson, or the fabulous Stephen Oldfield."