Okay so the approach by someone called Naomi Cambell may be spurious, but this isn't. The Gilt of Cain is a poem of mine upon a sculpture by Michael Vissochi. It ism erected in the heart of The City of London and was a commission by The City. Today I got a call to say that The Gilt of Cain will be unveiled by Bishop Desmond Tutu on September 4th . It is wonderful and incredible news to receive while here in Southern Africa. It means the Bishop or his people have read the poem. Read more [...]

I met an anthropologist novelist at the vancouver literature festival in Canada who told me that our need to feel close to fear is a basic instinct. The more man is comfortable, the more he needs fear. A physical representation of fear is the hypothalamus gland. This gland which gives us goosepumps and relates directly to when man had hair upon his body. Read more [...]

“welcome everybody to the word, the sound and the Power in the Voice festival. first and foremost please welcome onto the stage the one and the only ....”And I remind myself of the first person who was on that list without looking at the paper... the name escapes me for a second so I use a descriptive word “the incredible....” and at last it came to me “The Dogfather...”. The crowd whoop and holler. The only problem was The Dogfather was not there. Read more [...]

I’ve toured throughout Africa. But who are the new generation of poets? I am fascinated to see what the subject matters and styles will be. Read more [...]

Get packed. Get taxi. get to airport. Get on plane. Get to meet Roger Robinson. Get into air. Get to talk until evening. get to sleep for a couple of hours. Arrive next day in the morning in Botswana.  Read more [...]

LET THERE BE PEACE   Let there be peace So  frowns fly away like albatross And skeletons foxtrot from cupboards: So war correspondants become travel show presenters And  magpies bring back Read more [...]

The week is up and running smoothly . Only five or so days to go and I’ll be in Botswana. On Tuesday I visited the Eritrean embassy for visa and had the pleasure of a one hour conversation with the Eritrean Ambassador. And on Wednesday I'm in The New Zealand Herald. Read more [...]

And so it is here that I have grown addiction. Writing has all the traits of addiction. And addiction has the qualities of the eye of the storm. The calm timeless centre. Read more [...]

The fall is dramatic and the bang on the back of my head feels severe as my entire body collapses onto the floor. I lie in shock realising that something very bad has happened. I ask myself questions Where am I? You’re at the hotel. What happened? You just slipped on that polished floor I think. Should I get up? No you shouldn’t lay there. Am I bleeding? Feel your head. No you are not bleeding. Shall I get up? No, not yet. Read more [...]

The floor is polished wood and my Italian shoes slide beneath me, forward and swing upwards while my back keels backwards to become the first thing that hits the floor with a hotel shuddering crash that seemed to echo through the cellars beneath. Read more [...]