As Individuals, We Are Shaped

To Try To Expunge An Individual's History Is A Terrible Violation.

I Wish I Was Away In Ingo Far Across The Briny Sea Sailing Over Deepest Waters Where Neither Care Nore Worry Trouble Me

If The Garden Of Eden Really Exists It Does So Moment By Moment, Fragmented And Tough, Cropping Up Like A Fan Of Buddleia High Up In The Gutter Of A Deserted Warehouse, Or In A Heap Of Frozen Cabbages Becoming Luminous In The Reflected Light Of Roadside Snow.

I Have Learned So Much From Working With Other Poets, Travelling And Reading With Them, Spending Days Discussing Poems In Progress. There Is The Sense That We Are All, As Writers, Part Of Something Which Is More Powerful Than Any Of Us.

I Was Always Influenced By Language.