I haven’t posted here in a while, I actually took the blog ‘private’ for a few months, after a conversation with Catherine Smith about poets and blogging… she argued strongly…
It took three rows of barbed wire coiled round stakes, hammered at angles into sand and shingle. The beach packed and leaking like keddle nets of cockles in green buckets,…
Last week: issue 48 of The North failed to arrive, and when I asked for my ‘contributor’s copy’ I was told…erm… you’re not a contributor. The poem they’d asked for…
The first she prises out, clenched in bindweed: reluctance adds to its appeal. And there: not so large as to burst pockets, several flints conspire their surfaces glass-perfect, all the…