Renovating the Burning Archive

I have spent the morning renovating the Burning Archive. A new theme changes the look and will feature more posts on the landing page so that you can sample more of my writing. I have also added several pages that gather together the main categories of my writing. My poetry collections features links to the... Continue Reading →


Craft, voice and the fire

"We all know poetry isn’t a craft that you can just turn on and off. It has to strike fire somewhere, and truth, maybe unpleasant truth about yourself, may be the thing that does that." Robert Lowell, from a letter quoted in Setting the River on Fire: A Study of Genius, Mania, and Character (2017) by... Continue Reading →

On the history and meaning of the eight hour day

The story I told in this article still has resonance for me. It was a story about how, even in the apparently material conditions that defined work and industrial conflict, the meaning of events were inseparable from the striving for recognition and the webs of significance that we, culture-making beings, weave through the time of our lives.

A thousand thanks

Some time in the last couple of weeks the counter on my wordpress visitor stats clocked over one thousand. So this is a short post to say thank you to all those readers - presumably not one thousand readers, but one thousand visitors. When I commenced this blog back in July 2015 - nearly three... Continue Reading →

Poem: the tethered mind

The tethered mind The mind prowls, tethered to its past. An unknown unknown rises from An unclaimed grave of awkward glances. The waves come for the fallen swimmer Again and again. They roll fast. They suck his feet into the undertow. A macadamia tree in a shadowed grove, Where dreams were made, Rots and blackens,... Continue Reading →


A little under two weeks ago my mother died. I gave the eulogy at her funeral, and have composed this elegy as a way of working through the grief. Elegy There is no world but this one, Yet we are incomplete; Left stranded and voiceless When the anima disappears in the sea. Helplessly, we cry... Continue Reading →

Poem: peaches in a bowl

Today, a poem composed on the day of my daughter's departure to study in Europe for five months. Peaches in a bowl There it stands The Indian metal bowl Silver outside Burnt orange and black streaks Glossed in its basin Inside arranged with care Each sticker taken from the skin Eight peaches and five nectarines... Continue Reading →

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