Open letter to James Schuyler

Dear James (may I call you James?) Though it’s been a while (at least ten years, maybe more) it feels as … More

The poem as love affair

I have started the poem but the poem does not know it yet. I am more than flirting with it, … More

Alone I One evening in February I came near to dying here.The car skidded sideways on the ice, outon the … More

‘I’ve stopped listening to the radio!’ ‘What, completely?’ the book says. ‘Not completely, I’m not an idiot,’ I say. … More

Concluding this mini-series of poems I shared in my reading at the Greenbelt festival last weekend, here is Prayer by Marie … More

It was a huge privilege to share poems in workshops I gave at the Greenbelt festival last weekend. Here is … More

‘What drives you?’ says the book. ‘Haven’t we been here before?’ ‘What drives you?’ ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Never more,’ says … More

Consider what value, What meaning Is enclosed even In the smallest Of our daily habits, In the hundred possessions Which … More

Is it possible to practice noticing? I think so. But I also think it requires a suspension of yearning and … More

‘I’ve been out,’ says the book. ‘So I see,’ I say. The book is dressed in a pith helmet and … More

‘What are you doing?’ ‘What’s it look like?’ I say. ‘Hanging out the washing,’ the book says. ‘That’s right. I’m … More

The only real difference between people is not health or illness but the way each holds onto a sense of … More

‘Do you miss it?’ the book says. ‘Miss what?’ I say. ‘Having cancer,’ the book says. ‘Is this a joke?’ … More

It is necessary to write a book in which there will be a little less of the first person singular, … More

‘What are you doing?’ the book says. ‘What’s it look like?’ I say. ‘Running a bath,’ the book says. ‘Genius,’ … More

‘What drives you?’ ‘I’ve only just woken up!’ I say to the book. ‘Don’t care. It’s morning. Work to be … More

‘You know what your main problem is,’ the book says. ‘Needing to be liked.’ ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ … More

‘Aren’t you going get the phone?’ I say. ‘It won’t be for me.’ With a little groan the book … More