Graft was launched well and truly, with much love and many friendly faces in attendance, both in Wellington at Unity Books and in Paekakariki.

Yeah, yeah, I know, 2012 began a few months back now. Well, yes, I guess it did but the academic year just began a few weeks ago, so I’m going with that calendar.

Now that I’ve had a few weeks to settle in I’m really getting into my research. I can’t believe I’m allowed to just read and write about what I love for 20 hours a week! I keep looking over my shoulder to see if someone is getting ready to tell me off.

Wishing you all a wonderful 2012.

So I have some news. I feel very happy and nervous abut it but I also feel keenly aware that while I have good news some friends, who are extremely talented, have had bad news or are unable to take up the offer due to damn financial constraints.

So the news is that I have accepted an offer of study towards a PhD in creative writing at the IIML to start in March 2012.

It will be part-time study so I can continue to work part-time.

This weekend gone I had the good fortune to attend what I think may be my favourite book launch ever. My dear friend Helen Lehndorf's long awaited book of poetry - 'The Comforter', published by another wonderful Helen, Helen Rickerby of Seraph Press.

The NYPR programme Radiolab broadcast a very good podcast on time perception . It includes the story of a woman with lupus who suffers acute short-term memory loss and as a result is an excellent very long-distance runner. She runs those three-week races through the Arizona desert where you (certainly not I) run for 23 hours and sleep for one hour, or something like that.

As a follow up to this morning's post here is a mix & mash entry by Maria McMillan:

a voice that’s not the same as hers

Under the trees in Victoria Park certain grasses

bleed. I shave parts of my skull to the scalp.

My old woman loses speech. The morning’s tai chi

Ok, so this isn't a Tuesday Poem but it's pointing you to one. It's not too late to enter this year's mix & mash.

Check out Sarah Jane Barnett's amazing entry on her blog. 

Also just up is Harvest Bird's entry.

Years with a Husband

Stone to her water

his edges eroded slowly

leaving the core in place.

He was immovable

from desk, chair,

or opinion,

the slave and exemplar

of routine.

If she let him

he would wear those clothes —

scuffed fawn trousers,

frayed blue shirt —

till eternity,

till kingdom come.