Sunday, May 14, 2017

Saturday, May 06, 2017


It has not been an easy year, so far, at home, following J's breast cancer diagnosis. The treatment itself is absolutely brutal, we've realised, and it is dominating everything. This is why I'm totally "landlocked" at the moment. If it was my own illness, I would write about it - obliquely, I'd like to think - but I cannot narrate a loved one's crisis here.

I still like most the small, in writing; beachcombing, in my blog title's sense, finding a few words, tangential to the writer's life (and seemingly inconsequential, perhaps, to the reader at first sight) but which may resonate in the mind if one stays with them. I'll find my balance again at some point; but for the time being we're struggling against the undertow of a serious situation. There are things going on, off to the side of the page . . .

replaced original post, 14th May

Sunday, April 30, 2017


the dog looks up

to see where i've got to . . .

tiny blue flowers

personal choice from April 2016


expanding universe

it's no one's fault

we're drifting apart

personal choice from March 2011



gives me


personal choice from May 2010 
published in Prune Juice 4 


day break

half a pale blue

egg shell

personal choice from May 2009 

Wednesday, April 12, 2017


autumn days     drifting from text to marginalia

personal choice 
published in Bones Journal, 
the Red Moon anthology Nothing In The Window, 
and Touchstone Award winner, 2012

Thursday, March 30, 2017


the oncologist has just been brought an omelette. we must wait


at the jazz musicians' it's all daisies

Wednesday, March 29, 2017


horror of being the centre of attention. must be why I've not (yet) had a wedding. or a serious illness

Saturday, March 25, 2017


life is trying to kill us. in any way it can. at any moment even your own body might turn against you