I was lucky enough to attend a Prose Poetry course with your very own Louis Jenkins last week. I tried to write here after his own, humorous style but the interesting thing was that, when he came to read this out loud, he kept tripping over the length of sentences which are characteristically Kate-like!! THAT was quite an eye-opener for me. It is VERY revealing to have others read your own poetry aloud. Give it a try! :)) Love, Kate xx

QUITE FRANKLY...


I really don’t understand poets’ preoccupation with doors – Charles Tomlinson, or walls – Russell Edson. Windows seem pretty high up on the list also, whether stained or see-through. And ceilings seem to feature heavily in the lines of those engaged in an active sex-life. Floors, too, for that matter. On second thoughts, perhaps ceilings are a major focus especially of those whose love lives appear particularly empty: long nights spent with eyes wide open, staring up at the blank face of nothingness – except for that patch from when the bathroom above flooded when Wallace came to stay last spring. He’d spent fifteen minutes in the shower standing with his foot over the plughole.

Windows, walls, ceilings and floors: why worry about how big they are, how well they fit or where they’re leading? If it all feels like home, then well and good; if they enhance feelings of personal well-being, security and satisfaction, so be it. If together they constitute something positive that only you and one other person can share, then that’s very nice. Just shut that door, close the curtains and come over here. Blot out reminders of Wallace again.