"She lives the poetry she cannot write" – Wilde
….that my book has been reprinted? Oh I did? I really am very pleased with it*. So, I hope are the lovely people who bought it last night, after my reading at the Bluecoat in Liverpool with Adam Horovitz. Thanks to Gladys Mary Cole of Headland for her fulsome and blush-making introduction, and to Alex Scott-Samuel as ever for organising the Poetry Cafe with Gladys Mary.
One of the poems I read reminds me that I have been trying for years to say, in words, how useless words are. They are the only tools we have for communicating big ideas, but in love and in personal relations they can seem like blunt tools indeed by comparison with the precision of body language – not just the sexual, but the many gestures and moves by which we tell one another what we are really thinking. This little nugget is just a hint at the fragmented possibilities of language: then again, maybe it’s just a poem about fridge magnets.
Working different hours
we settled for exchanging rude words
on the fridge.
my purple love juice spit on roses:
this member is a giant bore.
I came alone into a tired house one night
and reached for milk. I saw
I in bed now
Those of you who pre-ordered the book should find it dropping through your letterbox next week. Thanks! And….
*…if you want to order a copy for £9 including postage, mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org.