As if it wasn’t enough to be pushing nettle seeds, now I’m challenging your spam filters… with an unlikely mash-up of herbology and breasts. As I write this, I’m waiting for my annual mammogram results. In a twist of fate, my former party-piece poem, Risky breasts, has been reprinted in the August issue of Herbology News, thanks to the lovely folk at StanZa, who curate the journal’s monthly feature poem. There’s a LOT of very interesting articles in this new-to-me online magazine. “This month we untie the Devil's Shoestrings, bathe in stolen milkiness, dig around in the darkest recesses of the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh, get a little risky, and then stop to smell the roses.”
Here’s an older blog about how I came to write Risky Breasts. And do check out these excellent, inclusive resources for everyone who has breast tissue, via Coppafeel.
Behind the net …
I’ve been working at both ends of the writing process this August. I’m in the explorative early phase of what I think might be a new sequence about a distant queer relation of my parents’ generation. I’m freewriting, sifting through photos I inherited, and researching dialect words. I read a (very) early draft at an open mic and I’m excited and curious to see where this goes.
I also reviewed proofs of my poems for a couple of forthcoming anthologies – new writing about George Mackay Brown (for his centenary year) and Hair raising, in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support.
From the reading pile
I’m late to this, but I’ve been completely absorbed by Lemn Sissay’s moving memoir of his childhood My name is Why. The book ends with a selection of his poems expanding on themes of abandonment, racism, and failed adoption. I caught myself flipping ahead a few pages to skim read what’s coming, before turning the pages back to read more closely. Does anyone else do this? I notice I only do it when I’m engrossed, a sure sign I want to eke out my reading.
I read a very different poet’s biography, of the C20 poet and trouser-wearing character Valentine Ackland (often now only thought of as Sylvia Townsend Warner’s partner).
And it’s been a joy to finally get my hands on a paper copy of Dawning by Mary Ford Neal. I was lucky enough to see the PDF proofs (full disclosure – you’ll find an endorsement from me on the back cover). The collection starts and ends with the question I told the world I didn’t love you. Why? Poems (in an impressive range of forms) explore the intensity and often contradictory complexities of desire, intimacy and love, deftly capturing passion and regret, hidden experiences, and unvoiced thoughts.
Out (or in) and about
