Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryTen For The Ten Commandments (IP) well-wisher914 years 2 weeks ago
StoryNicknames for Aislinn Mark Heathcote414 years 6 months ago
StoryLove is the drug shoe814 years 6 months ago
Storyplease (don't ) marry me! shoe1514 years 6 months ago
Storythe affair shoe1314 years 6 months ago
StoryNo two people Mark Heathcote214 years 10 months ago
StorySpring Fever jennifer214 years 10 months ago
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie314 years 11 months ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf914 years 11 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote115 years 1 month ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A315 years 3 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote615 years 5 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote215 years 5 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1815 years 6 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3015 years 7 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer216 years 3 weeks ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer116 years 4 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote316 years 4 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic216 years 7 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote216 years 8 months ago

My stories

The world is a feather within your palm

The world is a feather within your palm The quill of invention the quote of alarm! A wild doe-eyed beauty, you hide your spell. Till written out of hand drawn from the well!

Divisions of vanity

The sun and moon were lovers once Until dancing on the sea They saw in one another A singularity, a vanity! That encumbered them so truly That neither one would meet! And dance in the mirror

Questions of adultery

Where can we break eggshells? And meet as lovers. When can two lovers kiss, and tell? Their hearts contents to one another. What they’ve shared together Under the covers!

The juryman hammers!

She breathes into her heart the moons light Breathes into her soul the weary night! The crown of thorns; its incubus stars The brigadier’s landmine legs and arms...

Ode to a catfish

What do we know about the catfish? His silvery shad moonlit Moorish dish Headlong does he leave his naturals? His murky brown backwater, channels. On his kiss curl barbels, who knows?

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