the poetry of Richard Zola

the poems marked * contain material unsuitable for children

	abandoned fruit
	a big animal chewed my head
	a cinema
	a coincidence of bone and light approaching
	a darkened room
	a kind of exorcism *
	a leaf drawn on a leaf
	all the pretty pretty chickens
	a museum
	an ammonite is not a member of a biblical tribe
	and their shards would pierce soft flesh
	and fish wear dark glasses...
	an electrical storm *
	an epileptic stillness
	a paper bird painted blue
	a satisfying hour in a municipal ornamental garden
	a small cat leaps for a moth
	a street at 4am
	as street lights are passed
	a walk in the country that turned out to be nothing like the one wordsworth took ( the one about the daffodils)
	bok anders horse by the lake
	broken iron railings
	candle
	car doors whores and spores monday 4th september 10.05pm - 10.25pm
	coffee from an elegant pot
	dialling tone
	dusk
	each particle of night
	east facing beach
	electric frost
	excuse me are those nipples growing out of the wall?
	exhausted leaves
	expecting to be alone
	from the trees
	from this hill
	he can yodel too
	he's a martyr to his schemata
	hidden inside the canopy of a willow tree
	i can hear fish singing

	i could have been dylan, bob	top bottom up down
	i felt somehow drawn to you
	if i were you i'd dump him ms r
	i follow you up the suburban hill
	i'm tom thumb
	in oceans of blue white snow
	insect airlines - we never run out of fuel
	in the forest fallen trees
	in the tunnels beneath the city
	i saw myself there oh yes and painful it was
	i saw you from a distance
	is old too old to hold or what? *
	it's ironic but that's how it happens
	it's not a fox
	i've discovered that my urine
	i've never been unfaithful to you physically *
	i've seen your pressed flowers
	i was reading that apparently
	i watched self-consciously as you slept
	i watched your plane gain height
	i wont wash you
	i gave you everything
	in the yard of the farm
	i want to experience submission *
	i was born in the year of the sloth

	i was reading a menu from a chinese restaurant	top bottom up down
	i watched you walking in january
	japanese carp
	katrina
	krishna had deep blue skin
	levitating at last
	like an animal *
	lisa aint it time you wrote to joanna again you know how she loves long letters (no dont email her)
	london
	looking from this window
	monochrome and red
	moss covered stone
	ms brownlow carves wooden teeth
	ms greer applies 1000 cotton threads
	my cock: viscid *
	my grandmother was born in brittany
	neon green blue neon red
	night
	night bleeds into the afternoon
	no only feathers and exhalations
	no rest in budapest
	now there's nothing to stop the cows escaping (what if they see a handbag? revolution)
	oh shall i fetch it for you?
	oh soft yes inside you *
	ok so i slept with my sister a few times *

	one of the benefits of practising hatha yoga	top bottom up down
	on that wide beach
	rain possesses the autobahn
	red houses *
	sailor sailing lonely and scared *
	she watches distant lighted industrial panes
	show me your red nails
	skeldon removes his trousers *
	slow moving traffic
	so i was young *
	stained glass doors
	stay all night with me in this room
	taste the salt *
	the door pushes your shoes
	the eye of a bird in wild grass
	the flies you keep in your room
	the ghosts of forests can be seen
	the jazz cafe
	the orchard *
	the phone
	there is more than one kind of paranoia *

	there is more than one ring
	there is nothing visible on this hill	top bottom up down
	there they go the car wreck crew
	there was time
	the sky is ragged
	the tree i'd watched
	the window in this room is painted shut
	this window is high above the street
	today
	triad+1
	under milk wood on the radio when he should have been asleep
	waiting for you
	waiting as the bird waits (for permission)
	waiting in line like videos
	wash my hair with grass and sparrows
	we could go out
	well you know...she could at least...
	we were together for 12 hours
	when someone says they love another
	when the last dormouse has been flung from the last high window
	white
	who owns the small stones...
	words you had spoken
	yes & small green fish around your fiery head
	yes the kitchen is dirty but the light is clean
	you and me
	you gave me the key to your apartment
	you in your scarlet coat
	you left a neat word processed note
	your famous cucumber exiled from the salad *
	you said *
	you said i could sleep with any of your female friends
	you stand
	you stopped your car alongside me *
	you told me that sometimes
	you wore your T-shirt for a week
	your bedroom

	your conception
	3 poems about an aquarium
	7 fake haikus
	19 blood stains on the street
	3 weeks
	5 crows on the street
	1958 approximately (under milk wood on the radio part 2)

the poems marked * contain material unsuitable for children

The poems marked * contain material unsuitable for children

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