this  is the link

https://www.brokensleepbooks.com/product-page/morag-smith-spoil?fbclid=IwAR0aMNZOoIKgql0pIKtSrsE1Y50rfuERQ7IT1s_HsEeMXtikCapNBzv5ero

-Morag Smith

is a Cornish poet, painter, writer, and performer. She graduated in 2020 with a first in Creative Writing from Falmouth University, winning a prize for her dissertation. In 2018 she won the Cornwall Contemporary Poetry Festival, Shorelines competition. Her pamphlet, Spoil, was published by Broken Sleep Books in October 2021. Her poetry is published in various literary journals including International Times, as well as the eco-anthology, Warming! As a New Traveller she brought her children up close to nature, in trucks, caravans, and houses. She writes about her experiences, about our ravaged landscape, and bears witness to the poverty of British people. At the moment she is publishing a book of poetry about plastic pollution in our oceans, a collaboration with artist Jasmine Davies, and the Clean Ocean Sailing charity.

The Interview

Q.3: Why is history/herstory important in your poetry

Whatever a poem articulates has its own history/herstory, the reader, in turn, brings to the reading their own experiences. Every event is viewed through the lens of our conditioning. Till we can understand it it colours everything. Poetry unpicks and interprets, helps us look at the past more realistically, more honestly, momentarily putting us inside the story.

*******

More answers to follow

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Gayle J. Greenlea Excerpt for 30 November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued   Hilary flushed with mortification and anger. “I said, stop. Why do we do this to each other? To ourselves, for that matter. Do you ever stop to ask yourself that question?” “Oh, the big ‘S’ word. Been doing a bit of therapy, again, sis? Because we could never get our dad’s approval, we’re continually screwing ourselves and all our relationships. Self-sabotage and all that. Yeah, I’m familiar with the terminology.” “Well, we both seem to be making a bloody mess of our lives. What happens now, do you think? Ryan and I go on as before? Or maybe you and Ryan live happily ever after? I don’t think so. Chalk up one more spectacular failure for the Grace sisters. God, we should be terrorists – we’re so good at blowing everything to bloody hell.” Siobhan crossed her arms over her chest and visibly wilted over the fresh drink the pierced and spiky-haired waitress set in front of her. The young woman turned on her heel and hurried to the next table where she made a pretence of sweeping away non-existent crumbs, realising she’d tread on something intensely private. Siobhan sat for a moment, holding herself; then meeting Hilary’s gaze, liquid blue to stormy grey, whispered so softly that Hilary had to strain to hear, “Do you think it would be different if she were still here?” “Yes,” she said grimly. “Everything would be different.” -Gayle J. Greenlea YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning – Day Dead Leaf has turned blue. I may never drink tea again. Leaves are my madness. -Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Gayle J. Greenlea Excerpt for 29 November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued “You’re so predictable, Siobhan, calling yourself an artist. Art’s supposed to imitate life though, not the other way around. You turn your life into a pretzel trying to be me, re-inventing your life into mine. Now you’ve slept with Ryan. “If I remember correctly, you were there, too. It’s not like I did anything behind your back.” “Oh, didn’t you? You and Ryan orchestrated this. You had it all planned; all you needed me to do was show up. You were already taking off your clothes before anyone could say ‘threesome.’” “I didn’t hear any objections. Far from it. Let’s see, would ‘gasping, sweaty, moaning’ be accurate descriptions by your journalistic standards?” “I’d say virtually conscious was more like it. We’d all had too much to drink – never the best vantage point for choosing sexual liaisons.” The waitress, replete with ear, nose and belly piercings and spiky blue hair, picked this inopportune moment to deliver the margarita. Siobhan ordered another gin and tonic. “You always make excuses. Everything is always somebody else’s fault.” “I could say the same for you.” Hilary released the death-like grip on her margarita glass. Okay, let’s stop. This isn’t why I came.” “Oh, you came all right.” -Gayle J. Greenlea YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning – Day I know who you are. I know where you live, your home. Get out of my head -Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Excerpt for 28 November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued “You forgive me?” Siobhan looked up from sucking her straw, carelessly sweeping a panel of hair the colour of leatherwood honey out of her face with one hand. “You think you deserve to be forgiven?” “Probably not,” Siobhan sighed. Hilary was deriving too much enjoyment form watching her sister squirm to examine too closely her own complicity in last night’s events. Besides, she was angry, not the least with herself; and not unlike last night, was willing to take her pleasure where she could get it. And at the moment, she was getting it from watching Siobhan grovel. “You always want what’s mine, Siobhan. You’re so smart and so talented, but for some reason you want to be me. You don’t even seem to care that you’re settling for my leftovers.” Now it was Siobhan’s turn to be angry. “Your leftovers, is it? Ryan didn’t seem to need any warming up. Took one look at me and he was hot for it. Does he generally get that turned on with you, Hilary?” Without missing a beat, Hilary reached across the table and slapped Siobhan across the cheek. Mostly it was hurt, because she had noticed that Ryan needed very little warming up. In fact, it had hurt deeply that he seemed so attracted to her sister. She wanted to wound back. -Gayle J. Greenlea YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning – Day Seven I’m a glassmaker. I’m a nailmaker, pitman. I’m our history. -Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Gayle J. Greenlea Excerpt for 27 November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued   “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Siobhan sat on a green velvet lounge at Interlude, littered with the fruits of her shopping labours. “I almost didn’t. And not only because Ryan absconded with my car and keys. Thank God there’s decent public transport in this city.” Hilary slid onto the lounge across the coffee table from her sister. Interlude was a charming little retro bar in Newtown, warmed by terracotta sunshine, plush lounges and overstuffed chairs. She waved down the bartender and ordered a margarita with Cointreau and lime. Before the night was out, she might be doing straight tequila shots. “Speak for yourself. You haven’t been lugging all these shopping bags on and off trains all day.” Siobhan was working on a gin and tonic. From the looks of her it was one in a long queue of beverages she’d been progressively consuming since late afternoon. -Gayle J. Greenlea YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning – Day Seven I’m statue of Kes. I’m a massive Barnsley Chop. I’m half buried wheel. -Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Excerpt for 26 November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued Again, Owen paused a beat, then nodded. Not sure where this was going, he stalled by reaching across the table to refill their wine glasses. He studied the deep, rich garnet liquid in his own glass and found himself transported to another time, another glass of wine on a solitary beach in Mexico; Hilary across the table from him on their honeymoon, anxiety clouding her mercurial grey eyes, choosing the intimacy of that moment to reveal family secrets. “Yes,” Owen whispered, the word containing within it the lifetime of pain Hilary had shared with him that night, suffering which he had willingly taken into himself and borne with her, though it contributed, in part, to the eventual destruction of their marriage. Confused by his distraction, and impatient to get on with his story, Ryan coughed gently and Owen looked up. “I think I’ve found her.” -Gayle J. Greenlea YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning –

Day Five

Bramah’s invention,

Bird’s hands, reconstructed town,

All reinvention

-Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Excerpt for 25 November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued Owen set the table, poured two glasses of Barossa Valley Shiraz and met Ryan’s gaze. “Okay. What’s happened?” “How much do you know about Hilary’s childhood?” Ryan asked. Owen opted for caution. “Enough. What do you know?” “You know there’s another sister? I mean, besides Siobhan.” Owen waited a moment before nodding. “Yes,” he said carefully. This was treacherous ground. Hilary almost never spoke of the third sister and he felt uncertain about how much Ryan actually knew and what he, himself, might inadvertently reveal. “You know she disappeared.” -Gayle J. Greenlea YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning –

Day Four

I’m Ashley Jackson

landscape, McMillan stanza,

Ibbeson sculpture.

-Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.

Trigger Warning PEOPLE OF A SENSITIVE NATURE ARE ADVISED THAT THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS EXPLORE FAMILY DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE ISSUES Zero Gravity Excerpt for 24th November, 2021 <chapter> Two continued Ryan gone, dishes washed and put away, Owen sat in front of the TV, attempting without success to concentrate on the 11 o’clock news. Finally giving up, he extricated Banjo from his lap and headed for bed. Now he lay awake in the dark, listening to the cat’s contented purring next to his pillow, trying to anaesthetise his brain against what Ryan had told him. After an exhausting day at the AIDS hospice with no time to stop for lunch, Owen had been in no mood to talk on an empty stomach. He’d postponed their conversation long enough to unpack the groceries and make a dinner of lamb cutlets, rosemary potatoes and salad. YOU’RE THE DEAD TO ME Fourth week -A Waning – Day Three

I’m Watta Joa’s

bucket, cat attacked the man.

Miner’s ghosts on stroll.

-Paul Brookes Bios And Links -Gayle J. Greenlea is an American-Australian poet and counselor for survivors of sexual and gender-related violence. Her poem, Wonderland”, received the Australian Poetry Prod Award in 2011. She shortlisted and longlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize in 2013, and debuted her first novel, Zero Gravity, at the KGB Literary Bar in Manhattan in 2016. Her work has been published in St. Julian Press, Rebelle Society, A Time to Speak, Headline Poetry and Press, The Wombwell Rainbow, Fevers of the Mind, Kalonopia and The Australian Health Review.