Wrestling Emily Dickinson

Hey people - I realise there haven't been a lot of long and detailed posts on here for a while. This will probably continue for a while ...

Mum’s boots: brown leather creeping up my bare calf, heel thrown at an odd angle forcing my foot to slant, to curve; John’s Swiss Army K...

I mentioned a few posts back that this blog has gradually turned into a kind of Trans Comedy Watch, ever alert for examples of transphobia f...

'So why is it called Johns Hopkins?' I asked the poet who was hosting me on a trip to Baltimore as we drove past the town's fame...

This weekend I sent off a selection of poems to a publisher which might, just possibly, turn out to be my second pamphlet. If all goes well,...

Tomorrow I, like thousands of others, will be joining the March for the Alternative in London. We will march peacefully, we will assemble p...

It's a truism of politics - and of life, of which politics is merely an extension - that you hate your betrayer more than your enemy. Th...