Copy by copy, every hard-earned sale of a poetry collection is an act of trust, a contract between the poet and the reader that reaches far beyond cash. This is why I refuse to shy away from reminding you about Whatever You Do, Just Don't. Drop me a DM and I'll sort out your signed copy for you...

No zombies required. Apocalypse is climate. War. Extinction. Grief. The collapse of something you thought permanent. LAST LIGHT asks contemporary poets what the end of a world looks like from inside it.

If you’re anywhere near Dorchester today or tomorrow there’s a brilliant free festival called The Script’s The Thing spread over 5 venues up and down the high street. 100 15 minute performances from a range of writers. Come see!

I wrote a poem for my friend. She was a gardener and a journalist. I can’t believe she’s gone.

US government = barbarians. It’s like Rome under Caligula or Nero

Finally

Rustic tales of the Leatherman, the Hartford Circus Fire of 1944, Baseball, Marilyn Monroe, and more for this week's blog... A tribute to my home state reflecting on the recent publication of The Nutmeg Anthology of Connecticut Poems, with a launch event this Thursday at Guilford Free Library 🍂

When they talk about reducing red tape, remember this image.

Had a look at the poetry section of Waterstones in Chichester the other day. Deeply depressing. Insta poets, dead poets, sale-or-return, box-ticking collections from funded publishers, and themed anthologies. And no representation whatsoever of the ace poetry that's being written in the U.K...

Oops!