Mark Phillips' Pages: Workbook: March 2016

Workbook: March, 2016

March 31, 2016: Four polygonal fragments of two lacerated scarlet betting tickets...
March 30, 2016: Fancy dress balls arranged.
March 29, 2016: Wings and officer's blazer...
March 28, 2016: Sunscreen, or tanning oil...
March 27, 2016: Gorgeous in her company uniform.
March 26, 2016: Gray hair, jelly belly, earphones.
March 25, 2016: Dust webbed the window and the showtrays.
March 24, 2016: One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table by a dagger.
March 23, 2016: His nostrils arched themselves for prey.
March 22, 2016: A king and a prince at last in death, with incidental music.
March 21, 2016: Only crows, priests and English coal are black.
March 20, 2016: A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly.
March 19, 2016: Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy.
March 18, 2016: Lovely shame.
March 17, 2016: She won in a thunderstorm...
March 16, 2016: Fading gold sky.
March 15, 2016: "Where are you working today?"
March 14, 2016: Tomorrow is killing day.
March 13, 2016: She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out.
March 12, 2016: In the heart of the Hibernian metropolis.
March 11, 2016: Runaway horse.
March 10, 2016: Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.
March 9, 2016: A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile.
March 8, 2016: I couldn't hear the other things he said...
March 7, 2016: Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.
March 6, 2016: O rocks.
March 5, 2016: The flag is up on the playhouse by the bankside.
March 4, 2016: Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch.
March 3, 2016: Tame essence of Wilde.
March 2, 2016: Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley.
March 1, 2016: A man stood on his dropping barge, between clamps of turf.