The Bill Strappy flyby providesyou with the occultnonsense the Gardenerdemands you play,when your own notebookis filled with love songs.Still, there’s nothingto be done but pickup the sticks and getdown to business. TonightNairobi, tomorrow, whoknows, but you’ve alwayswanted to see Accra. … Continue reading
Cabin There is a place in Maine, near Belfast, where the oaks trundle up to the oceanside, fifty feet of shattered rock separating soil from surf. The cabin sits behind that rock, the clearing hewn some years ago, the house … Continue reading
As I slipped into sleep, I wrote a poem in my head with an expensive fountain pen on silk. When I awoke I discovered it had been … Continue reading
Describe your journey towards becoming a poet. It continues. There have been points along the way when I have said “okay, I made it, I’m a poet now” – a lot of them clustered around the late eighties/early nineties (my … Continue reading
When the water began to fill the coalfields I, the last inhabitant of this city had tied myself to the basement post looking for—what?— a revelation? Possible. The water, coated with coal dust, swirled around my feet. The rope tightened … Continue reading
And it’s always been so simple, hasn’t it? The poets stifled by their governments their countries some of them scream and whine and cry that they are being repressed— shut up! You have governments that notice you enough to stifle … Continue reading