Carried by light, images remain while sensation is so evanescent as to be always beyond belief..

I tend to like the way poets form communities. Writing can be lonely after all. Modern life can be lonely. Poets do seem to be more social than ficti….

Like most of my poems, 'Lie' has several sources: I read a very troubling book called The Sixth Extinction. I took note of the way people, including ….

Metaphor is ritual sacrifice. It kills the look-alike. No, metaphor is homeopathy..

I am attracted to looking at the different things language can mean even in one sometimes quite ordinary utterance. Writing is partly about listening….

We are all full of discourses that we only half understand and half mean..

The crowd is made of little gods, and there is still no heaven..

Poetry wants to make things mean more than they mean, says someone, as if we knew how much things meant, and in what unit of measure..

But here I hold your dream in my poem..

Curled up in bed, I’m young in the old way..

The future is all around here.' It's a place, anyplace where we don't exist..

The ghosts swarm. They speak as one person. Each has left something undone..

This is a strange book: visionary and dark. It stutters out a kind of music: repeated phrases which accumulate errors and mutate as they go like chro….

As for the differences between audio and the printed page, the sonic aspects of poetry are important to me. I read my poems aloud to myself as I'm co….

Lily Brown writes with and against things in poems that are coiled up tight as springs (or snakes). A believer in the power of the line, she writes, ….

Poets tend to form loose groups - the "Romantics" or the "Imagists". And sometimes they write manifestoes in the name of these groups. This can be go….

clarity need not be equivalent to / readability. How readable is the world?.

Like all my poems, 'Negotiations' has several sources. It deals with aging lovers and the often silent deals they make. Thinking about bargains made ….

Thus drivers inching southward will see the phalanx of birds heading west as one spontaneous gesture..

We sleep together in the dark but confuse light with love..

I know you by your willingness..