You might have noticed me linking to a new online magazine called Folks. My friend Naomi Arnold wrote about me, and I wrote about writer Stephanie de Montalk.
The last tendrils of sun slide off the sand into the sea We pull in when the road gets rocky and watch the cold smudges of mountains fade in the Continue Reading →
Talking to you is like forcing myself through a very small hole in a barbed wire fence with the small brained certainty that the field on the other side is Continue Reading →
Considering the recent success of artists like Lorde and Eleanor Catton doing the exact thing I am about to criticise, – the exact thing I am guilty of myself and Continue Reading →
You out there sitting in the chill black grass just beyond the yellow fall of light from the kitchen window You know I’m watching wondering if the evening dew has Continue Reading →
Sometimes I go for a walk in the afternoons, when the rain is still dripping from branches and letterboxes and the clouds on the hills look empty While I wander, Continue Reading →