When you can’t, it’s impossible

I can’t write poems in recent weeks either. It’s not the first time it’s happened. And it’s not worth going … More

Not much

What’s been happening? Well, not much. Which is another, deflecting, way of saying quite a lot, actually. So much that … More

So this is a bit spooky. All week I had in mind these marvellous final words from Lucille Clifton’s poem … More

Praise the Rain Praise the rain; the seagull diveThe curl of plant, the raven talk—Praise the hurt, the house slackThe … More

Try to Praise the Mutilated World Try to praise the mutilated world.Remember June’s long days,and wild strawberries, drops of rosé … More

It was one of those throwaway remarks made by one writer, male, to another, ditto, in one of those books … More

Try to Praise the Mutilated World Try to praise the mutilated world.Remember June’s long days,and wild strawberries, drops of rosé … More