An audio version of a three part poem set near Stowey, a small village in the Chew Valley in SW England. Moving through the months July, August and September...

I am poised above you: one foot on the horn of a crescent moon. Arms outstretched. My right hand holds the murmuration that celebrates the sky outside the wi...

Stop what you are doing. Put that device down, that newspaper, that book. Stop that habitual litany of discontent at your partner, your children, the state o...

Should I feign surprise when you come to my door? Though I was shown in a thousand ways that your arrival was imminent. Clouds had painted your portrait. The...

Last night I surrendered Allowed my fierce love to rise Furious, bright, dangerous. Sleep dared not approach; hiding; elusive at the edges. A tempestuous hea...