Feature in HOUSEBOAT

Published today on the HOUSEBOAT blog, there is a feature about me and some of the poems I have written for Anatomy. The feature also has the wonderful photographs of Rose Mary Boehm.

You can read for yourself by following the link below.


Social Media

Quick post with some thoughts about social media.

1, thank you again to anyone reading this who is following this blog. I tip my hat to you.

2, You may have noticed that I do not allow comments on my blog.

2a, this does not mean that I am an anti-social blogger.

2b, this does mean that I am a blogger who is aware of their responsibilities. I am responsible for every word put on this site. I don’t allow comments on this site because although my audience is small, it’s diverse enough for me to find it difficult to draw consistent lines about what would be acceptable for commenting without offending people. This is particularly so because I wrote a book which has some sexual content.

3, I am genuinely interested in building friendships with people who are interested in what I am doing. So social media is very important.

4, At the moment, if I had to rank my favourite social media, I would go 1) Goodreads 2) Facebook 3) Twitter. If you want updates on this site my facebook and twitter feeds get immediate links to all new posts. However, Goodreads with its message boards and messaging is perhaps a better arena for getting to talk about things in more depth. And depth is good.

5, If you’d like to be in touch with me through social media, the buttons on the top menu will help. I’d love to hear more from you.

Taunton: A Christmas Poem

the stackhouse jones project

Swaddled for December in the Museum of Somerset,
a four year old boy with flashing l.e.d. reindeer antlers
squashed on top of his head smudges his face right up
close to the glass to see a fossilised skull. A reindeer
set in stone stares back, the remaining evidence that
once these lands were his; he too walked the Mendips.

Covers of silence rest on the County Ground square
that groundstaff will leave undisturbed until a handful
of pensioners arm wrestle the April skies into admitting
it is summer for there is cricket. Wagtails in the outfield
tell tales of the mythical big bird which nested these
grounds some eight or more generations before them.

A volunteer at St. Mary Magdalenes’ sweeps the church
floor and shuffles the bookshop around before the start
of Evening Prayer. Breath rises, living incense, towards
roofbeams as she makes a lullaby to her pews and…

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