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Sophie Collins



Have we accepted that we cannot turn cannot turn cannot turn the secret
hidden method of the audience?

The test speaker quicksteps in public and gives the audience his dirty tips.
The problems in the audience sector can be defined as enclosed in a dresser,
in a field, with a vision of modernism.

Federal Garcia Lorca receives the audience in a public garden, a zoological garden
of public choice. The audience have knowledge of the public bodies combustion bill
and the book shelf personality of a toilet.

A violent audience that threatens the public service in advance
with the can-can.


The public is forever in fear.
Public sectors surround the mind and face.
Blinking in the public section can never be accepted.
Federico Garcia Lorca is used to that (what a citizen).
Public investigation is quick and shall decipher at the public’s interest.
The public park, the public zoo are public marks from private folds.
The ministry offers the public milk and honey.


Public enemies
review the public in public –

prompt and dingy
creatures with prevalent interests
in alternative public depiction.

The public face of modernism
was a dividing folder

a common folder
that came into the public
via Federico Garcia Lorca.

The public model of science –
fervent in public organ rations –
was always prevalent and hot.

Its problem
in the public sector
can be defined
as room for surrender.


The property always feared her comrades’ eyes.
The eyes that never winked. That cannot accept becoming.
Cannot advise becoming.

The method cannot be extracted – becoming the enemy.
Criticism is the speaker’s quickstep, the dirty typist.
Define becoming.

The science of public understanding of private interest.
Picture philosophy and her problems –
an embraceable region becoming the commons of the face.

The audience wants what the audience gets.
A garden comes into use. Some follow the montage.
Public choice – a model worth the arts subjects. Worth.

Worth the science.
Burning locations
character the private.


From the Window of a Moving Train

Suddenly I am struck by the stillness of horses.
I miss my turn in the game. Outside are objects,
we must spot them. The rules are not complex.

But is a rainbow worth more than a cloud?
A church equal to ten burnt-out sheds? And how much
for a flag, a scarecrow or a swarm of bees? A couple in love,

a couple not in love, a tree stump, a crime-scene?
An upturned rowboat, a child’s kite, a face at a window?
A fist-fight? Lost money? Perfect light? A girl, running?



I had been reading about ancient belief
in ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ waters, how the former
represents potential — a cloud or a contrail —
and the latter the actual: a lake or canal.
Coming across ‘skull-water’, I said it aloud.

But you asked about condensation,
where steam and rain came in.
‘Why not call a cloud a cloud?
Why complicate the thing?’

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