Description
These poems bear witness to the cycles of growth and decay that make up our lives. They are the work of a poet writing with an awareness of the seasonal circle closing, for the year and for herself. They are at once fearful, fragile and fearless in announcing ‘For now, we have October?/ October, lined with gold.’ They are also homages to the dead and the dying, and a reaching beyond the veil of the ‘now’ to a place where there is ‘nothing but nothing’. At times they are deeply personal, while still existing within the mythic and the impersonal, as when the recall of a room reflects the ‘casual, artless grouping of all longing’.







A Quarter of an Hour
Controlled Explosions
Collage One
Somewhere Else Entirely
This Is Yarrow
Stressed, Unstressed: Classic Poems to Ease the Mind (Edited by Jonathan Bate)
Then What
Soemps