Annette came back from Melbourne with a wee giftie. The new book by Michele Leggott, Milk and Honey (Auckland Uni Press). She wouldn't have known I've got two other of Michele's books and that I was a-thinking of getting this one as soon as I could. She just thought it would be 'my thing' and she and Kris at Collected Works conspired on what would be 'my thing' - that I didn't already have, so far as they could guess.
And here it is, now in my hand, ready for reading real soon. With a picture from Slava's Snow Show on the front. Can you believe that? I saw the Snow Show years ago.
A was home late. And me again but late by train from St Leonards with much pfaffing between lines.
So we're doing the rubbish and it's recycling week. We're rounding up the big box of paper and glass and I'm thinking, as I seem to do these days, it's a bit like my writing. Cast-offs, remnants and a lot of recycling. As though each poem is the thing I leave along the way, cast off and go on further into language/s. Recycling is a good thing. So is casting-off. I never managed it in knitting (I never managed knitting full-stop and it's been downhill ever since) but I can do it in poetry.