Confounded Letters
By Ken Simm
Open letters to myself on Creation.
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- 1685 reads
Humming the Song through a Feather in the Mists of Time. A Confounded Letter
The act of climbing a mountain is changed succinctly and dramatically by the act of observing the climb
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- 724 reads
A Fish Dinner in Memison. A Confounded letter
They are amongst you in black and white Sci Fi.
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- 7 comments
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- 1656 reads
A Piece of me unsure A Suite in 4
Useless, she just said.
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- 847 reads
A Soft Caress of Welcome and the Scent of Old High Places.
These were her words. These were the notes musical that tried to convince me of the strangely impossible.
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- 1 comment
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- 1029 reads
A Weather Stripped Mountain and Caves under Trees. A Confounded Letter.
A whole experience for me, to me, explained in my sickness and the lies of those who said, illness suits you.
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- 2 comments
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- 1036 reads
After the Chemical wedding the Physical honeymoon. An erotic Confounded letter.
Art is the high priest of communication said the man who called himself the beast.
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- 1256 reads
Consider the birds in the Winding Gear of Lancashire
Confounded letter
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- 5 comments
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- 1824 reads
Last week I went up a mountain
Wind froze and carpet snow swirled, displaying and lifting its skirts for all to see.
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- 960 reads
Yesterday then was a Criticism of Mountains
Confounded letter
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- 778 reads
Last year it was Halcyon perhaps
Confounded Letter
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- 783 reads
Long ago & far away in a room of glass
Confounded letter
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- 1273 reads
Look there's a town called misery and of that we'll have none
A Confounded Letter
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- 794 reads
Now a loose conglomoration of pictures in an exhibition
A Confounded Letter
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- 908 reads
This time was an instant experienced under a tree, naked
A Confounded Letter
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- 856 reads
We sip the flood that drowns us, inevitably
A Confounded Letter
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- 784 reads
Now this orchard & Spirit kept me as quiet as the dead, thirty years ago.
Confounded letter
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- 771 reads
The Complete Confounded Letters, plus a new one.
Do the Gods have dreams? But then you cannot blame them.
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- 1187 reads
It begins and ends with an acoustic piece I have some sympathy with.
We are fools, that at least is evident. Talk not of our foolishness and remember.
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- 2 comments
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- 994 reads
The nostalgic black pigs that haunted every sensitive childhood down there. Confounded letter 13
No one would understand the highest pleasure of this nostalgia, now would they?
Near the Northern Isle of the Saint and the Illuminated manuscript. Confounded Letter 14
It has a collective strength to all but these but only if you do not take them too seriously.
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- 692 reads
The Lovers at the Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosencrantz. A Reverie and a Confounded Letter.
I wrote this down with a drawing of your lips in my sketchbook.
Who sang La Mer? Charles Trenet sang La Mer. This is what you asked.
The barge trips with a bike, asleep on wet grey green tarpaulin valleys,
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- 731 reads
The Dog Man speaking from beyond himself to a child who ran away. A Confounded Letter.
“Why don't you talk proper?” she said and “don't eat all those apples they don't grow on trees”.
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- 4 comments
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- 1334 reads
The Terrible Time when it all went away and came back, slowly. A Confounded Letter.
A Frightening Confounded Letter even now.
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- 6 comments
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- 1478 reads
Intaglio is all in the Subtle Wrist. A Confounded Letter on Painting.
Leave that alone always. Never come back to that one pushed against the wall.
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- 641 reads
The second one asked after the hanging hind and up the highest mountain.
Rills and runnels, rock and tarn, cwm and cloudy crag.
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- 4 comments
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- 1178 reads
His eye moved across the face of the Century
Meemawing mothers in curlers and ash flicked acted cough bandied about gate gossip all day.
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- 2 comments
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- 890 reads
The Complete Wastefulness of an Educational Summer
Peace, past and present. Smooth sounds and trilling bird Summers. A Confounded letter on Sixties holidays
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- 1 comment
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- 744 reads
Playing Strange Music in the Mountains of Pictland
Here I will wait for you always.
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- 2 comments
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- 841 reads
Hy Brassil and Environs calmed in a Summer's breeze.
A shot sound of bright canvas contrast. Articulation creaks of new rope on shiny surfaces. The cool that feels good blowing south smooth.
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- 697 reads
The Colt with the Blaze. The Song of its Short Beautiful Life.
A night, short in June with bats and moths attracted by rainbow fluid ligh
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- 6 comments
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- 1453 reads
She thinks of missing once he has gone home. Waiting for the Dream of Gerontius.
Little things irritate, like they always do and larger things send her screaming for a room with the door always closed.
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- 716 reads
Morning Wished, Drawn and Coloured in. A Pastorale.
As it was, is and in all that's wanted. As it is, for all its disappointments.
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- 654 reads
The reality of bent nostalgia and good drunks
When he hit, boy laughed. Small fearful, feral laugh. Who knows why? But he did and boy knew when.
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- 4 comments
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- 1325 reads
The loss of an ill fated romantic in a life mechanical.
Her times and history had long gone. Her voices in the high places were lost in the winds and flurries of storms.
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- 669 reads