Bride She was halfway to the church, and late. Waiting at another railway crossing, the train flashing past ticketty-tak, ticketty-tak, the faces turning her way, fingers pointing, though what they could make out under all the froth and tulle ... well. The cake she'd made herself, to save money, and iced yesterday, singing a silly lovey-dove …
WS Merwin wins the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry
Just came across the announcement. I haven't read The Shadow of Sirius yet, so it's another one to add to my list. He's been one of my favourite American poets for quite a while. Ever since I read "Place" in Bill Moyers' anthology The Language of Life (a book that I recommend very highly). Then …
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NaPoWriMo 09 – day 21
Blues for an Old Photograph Girl, if you knew what was coming, you'd flee. Girl, I know you will suffer and grieve, and curl on the floor like a witchetty grub, and bleed. Young. You are young, and strong – you're strong. Just never enough, or for long. Cross your arms on your chest – that's …
The Summer King – proofs done
Well I've finally finished going over the proofs of The Summer King. Done, and dispatched back to my publisher. It still feels pretty amazing – a mixture of glee and dread (not a usual combination, I know). The poems feel like old friends now, and friends that I'm happy to see again. The weirdest thing …
NaPoWriMo 09 – day 20
untitled You are the sound of water, a fountain, somewhere nearby but just out of sight, around the next corner maybe. A paved square, a plaça beneath tall trees, the dappled light of old trees outside a church where children are quiet, at prayer, heads bent to their own strange thoughts. Gaudi knew this place. The day is …
A Dark Feathered Art 