It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You are close at hand yet very far away. So long since I have…
Archive
Between seasons
I love this time of year. The city still seems to belong to itself. Mornings are still mornings, not a…
Against forgetting
I write a lot of things down. In part this is because I no longer remember anything. If I do…
The real new year
I love this time of year. There is a wonderful Anne Lamott line somewhere about the welcome of the cooler…
The how of it
A little taster for you. This is an essay from my forthcoming book Deck Shoes. – I was having…
The Afterlife has arrived
–for Peter and Amanda Carpenter Yesterday a miraculous thing happened. I took delivery of a box containing copies of…
A list of found poems
As the holiday season continues I repost this list of various found poems that I have made over the…
August, by Tove Jansson
As the summer holidays take over I am re-posting the odd blog post from my archive. To celebrate the start…
Writing in the gaps
There isn’t much left to be done. The proof reading, the book blurbs (they take longer than the poems), the…
Poems from The Afterlife
After what feels like a very long wait since the publication of Riddance in 2012, I am delighted to be publishing…
Deck shoes and other enthusiasms
Some of you will have seen this blog post before. It is a taster of some of the contents…
The possibility of shatter
I think I am done. I think. I think, therefore I am done? I think I am. No doubt there…
The Wacky Races
When Riddance came out in 2012 people said some very nice and kind things about it. But that is not…
Proof(s)
I have been doing the proofs to my new books. And I am scared. Scared that I have got it…
On not tweeting: Open letter to Twitter
And what will I miss? Her cruelty, her unfaithfulnessHer fun, her love, her kiss, part company The Go-Betweens, Part Company…
Nothing
‘What are you doing?’ says the book. ‘Nothing.’ ‘Doesn’t look like it.’ ‘Listening to the cricket,’ if you must know.…
The Year of Living Deeply 20: Poems hatch – a found poem by Marge Piercy
Poems hatch Poems hatch frommemory, fantasy, theneed to communicatewith the living,the dead, the unborn.Poems come directly outof daily life, fromthe…
The Year of Living Deeply 21: Some James Schuyler resources
My James Schuyler obsession continues. (So is my adoration of blogs about pencils, but that is another story.) Below are…
