this is me, Sheila, talking — poem

this is me, Sheila, talking I have seen fingers crack in the ring like girdle scones this is me, Sheila, talking this is me this is me I have seen women settle like junket, I have seen water curdle listen this is me this is Sheila this is me I am a person who knows […]

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The perils of writing a self-help book

I perceived at least three reasons for baulking at the prospect of writing a self-help book. When I wondered why I’d been so slow to get started on my current book (Life is long: my boot camp for the bonus years) I figured that the genre was one reason for getting writer’s block.

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Thou house—a poem

Our family was a movable community squatting in house after house never suitable and never ours. Each new vicarage was a thrill but icy or haunted or just too small they never were homes for our mother, not at all. Imagine moving, moving, moving seven times in fourteen years gathering daughters along the way. And then […]

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