LUPUS IN FLIGHT

Outside, I hear morning birds and someone begins the onerous task of sweeping dust. Dust in India cannot be swept away. Can be swept from h...

December 2014. The year is gathering her skirts for the final curtsy. She has been Queen Elizabeth in her Dame Dench- Shakespeare In Love gu...

One of the greatest joys of my life is being the daughter of artists. Every few months of every year, a person comes to life on my mother...

Her socks are bright green with white criss crosses stitched into the soles. She can't breathe very well, a second of silence is a...

On BBC radio, there used to be a programme called A History of the World in 100 Objects : the presenter takes a single object and pursues it...

they are calling this month, this year. And who wants to miss the golden month, the golden year? So I tuck my auto-antibodied phenoxym...

I took late afternoon tea with Turner at the Tate (a story that requires its own post) after waving off my nieces at Heathrow. Their little ...

' Good grief .' Is there such a thing? Grief rhymes with thief. That much is true. I am always grieving. Something has always...

Birdsong. Rain song. A dog's song. I am in a hurry to reach my nieces before bed songs. Paw prints on my Gap white t-shirt: Gra...

Four years ago, I wrote and published a poem called Crossing Borders . This was how it began… ' If I meet an Israeli, I will tell hi...