Interview by Zoë Brigley
“I think poetry and prose… provide important ways of breaking into those taboos such as sex and death when it comes to older people“
Notes on the Lure
We squat beneath a black umbrella in Morfa Bychan
as the much younger pair strip off,
naked amid the pelt and fury of drip and howl,
charge into the winter sea’s dirty horses.
My niece banshee-cries the name of her dead friend,
posy aloft – mermaid’s purse, heart’s tongue,
razor shell.
Wild is a drug
these olders have tasted many times before.
We laugh at the implausibility
of letting go,
explore the plateau-pleasure of stepping back,
observe the lightness of their towels.
Something that I really enjoyed about this poem was the sense of taking joy and finding value in being older. Was this part of your intention or did it just happen?
The initial idea was about exploring insatiability. Do we have to carry on being so insatiable now that we’re old? Can we be fully satisfied with less? Is this part of the inevitable voyage towards acceptance of death? And can it be conscious? There was this intergenerational moment where we were on the beach and the wind was raging, the rain was pouring and the younger pair stripped off and charged into the sea. My partner and I both had the same urge to do the same. To join in with that abandoned honouring of my niece’s friend, Liv, who had recently died by suicide. But in that moment, I recognized my own desire to step back and also acknowledge that it was their time to do this wild thing. And that this is not easy to do. But we don’t need to always do it. Also to admit that it would have been uncomfortable for us at this time of the year at sixty seven and seventy seven, in February in North Wales. And we did not have towels. They had come prepared! And there was a joy to it, to letting it all unfold in that way, in the knowledge that we had actually done many equable deep dives, and that we can let go. That doesn’t mean we won’t be wild again.
Could you talk about the form of this poem? There is almost an echo of a sonnet there, but with a line missing and some short lines or words hanging in space.
It was a longer poem to begin with. I am a member of a poetry group, The Group led by John Stammers, so I took it to them. Their comments – we are constructively critical – made me think that it had too much about the abstract notion of satiability and it would be better to just focus on its essential flesh and let the satiability dwell in the words stepping back. I also have a tendency to overegg – kill those darlings – so I sharpened it up and removed some of the title that was too telling. I’m always interested in my poetic vulnerabilities. I was aware of the almost- echo of the sonnet, I wanted it to have that resonance. I often have words that hang off lines, it seems to be part of my formal or non-formal voice.
I read your article ‘On Choosing to Live Apart’ for Advantages of Age. Do you think it’s important to document the more unconventional paths and wisdoms of older people in poetry and prose?
My article for Advantages of Age purposefully documents my partnership situation – we Live Apart Together with a five hour drive between London and N Wales –mentioning the difficulties as well as the wonderful aspects. My parents’ generation – they were born in the 1920s – didn’t have this kind of choice in the way they lived and I’m very keen that we – the baby boomers and Gen X – are proactive around choice in living and dying. Advantages of Age – a website, a lively FB group, a creative hub – is a social enterprise which challenges stereotypes around ageing. Often my poems aim themselves fairly and squarely at entering the taboo zone around ageing. As a former hippie, then punk, getting older as a poet represents the new frontier land where I think it’s important to speak with a voice that goes into those crevices.
In my pamphlet, Tantric Goddess, I deal with the simultaneous situation of having a new partner in my sixties at the same time as having a mother who had Alzheimer’s. I think poetry and prose (and film, I’ve just created a performance and film called Dance Me To Death where a group of over sixties danced in order to honour our dead in Kensal Green cemetery) provide important ways of breaking into those taboos such as sex and death when it comes to older people. And dementia. And the effect on our relationship with that person. In Reborn – ‘Everything I used to hate about her, has been tipped up and emptied out.’
On the other hand, I don’t subscribe to idea that elders are always wise. I’d prefer that we are curious, than sit in the safety and elevation of wisdom. Which is why in Notes on the Lure I mention ‘the implausibility of letting go’ because I’m eager to point our fallibilities. We don’t really want to give up our wildness but we realise stepping back and handing on are part of our roles with our youngers. And explore plateau-pleasure! I’m also keen that we laugh at ourselves in our struggle for conscious ageing!