How we spend our days, by Annie Dillard

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and … More

The Little Prince

‘I need to get away.’ ‘But there’s work to be done,’ says the book. ‘A holiday. That’s what I need.’ … 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 will you miss most?’ the book says. ‘About what?’ I say. ‘Me,’ says the book. ‘I didn’t know you … More

Recently I have featured prose writing by various writers, reshaping them in the form of found poems. Annie Dillard on … 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

Here is how it happens. The vision is, sub specie aeternitatis, a set of mental relationships, a coherent series of … More

‘What do you think?’ I say to the book. It has held on to my poem for a week, and … More

The adventures of the book have now clocked up fifty blog posts. Here is a list of all of them, … More

‘I don’t know if I can do this any more.’ ‘Do what?’ the book says. ‘This.’ ‘Sit around waiting for … More

‘Listening to the cricket again?’ says the book. ‘I think I’ll join you.’ ‘What do you mean, ‘again’?’ I say. … More

‘That thing you mentioned the other day,’ the book says. ‘Is it true?’ ‘What thing?’ I say. ‘About there being … More

‘How have you been?’ says the book. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘You?’ ‘Tired,’ says the book. ‘I’m tired.’ ‘Me too,’ I … More

I think I am probably in love with silence, that other world. And that I write, in some way, to … More

I am delighted to have Slow Weather, a new poem published at London Grip New Poetry