A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with O’Phylia Smiley

with O’Phylia Smiley

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

O’Phylia: I’ve written since I was a child. I started writing poetry at 7 when I first learned about Phyllis Wheatley. Our teacher explained her poetry to us and I thought, I could do that. 

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

O’Phylia: Eve L. Ewing, Chen Chen, Victoria Chang, Mellisa Lozada-Oliva, and N.K. Jemisin.

Q3: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing? Have any travels away from home influenced your work?

O’Phylia: I grew up in the South. I was born in Virginia and lived there for 8 years, but most of my poetry takes inspiration from the bayou in lower Alabama where I grew up. Wetlands make me feel powerful, feel enriching like nothing else to me. There’s something so wonderful about a space in nature that cannot be controlled. The kudzu and Spanish moss draw me in as well. People are so angry about how kudzu covers everything, about how it’s an invasive species, as if kudzu walked over and just decided to make things miserable for humans. The vine was brought here and people are mad that it thrived. 

Though my poetry is heavily inspired by my hometown, Celtic stories have an influence in the stories I write. I’ve always been interested in Ireland, and going there in 2008 cemented my love for the fae. 

Q4: What do you consider the most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far?

O’Phylia: Flame Work,” a poem recounting what my family does when there’s been a death of a child, is something that I’m so glad I get to share with the world. I’m often the quiet one on my mother’s side of the family, but I love them dearly. I often say my poems are apologies, but this one is more of a letter of gratitude. 

Q5: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?

O’Phylia: Not necessarily. I’ve always been a writer, and I knew that even if I didn’t get anything published,  I would write regardless. I suppose when I discovered lit mags I realized I didn’t have to publish an entire manuscript of poetry at once. Framing it as a few pieces at a time made the decision less daunting. 

Q6: Favorite activities to relax?

O’Phylia: Reading, of course. I enjoy scrapbooking and doing collages to relax; it’s nice to have something that doesn’t involve screens. I also enjoy pole fitness since you can have tangible results like getting into a trick you’ve practiced for months. It’s nice to have something I can see for myself.

Q7: Any recent or upcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

O’Phylia: Wizards in Space and Black Girls Create included my poem Flame Work in the anthology These Bewitching Bonds. I couldn’t be more honored to be alongside such great writers. You can order the e-anthology here

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem of yours or others?

O’Phylia: From “Miriam,” published in issue 2, of Occulum Mag: “…I have no qualms/ About drowning you.”

Q9: Who has helped you most with writing?

O’Phylia: Arielle Tipa, writer and editor of Occulum Mag, and Swapna Krishna, who offered her mentor services to me. 

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Gill McEvoy

with Gill McEvoy:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Gill: As I’ve written in a poem my first true word was “Scissors” when my mother was angry at me for taking her sewing scissors to play with. I think I’ve loved words ever since especially as my aunt taught me to read early and I found the ability to read words and to cherish the sounds of words themselves wonderful, and regarded them almost with religious awe. I collected them too, the longer the better, swapping them with others at school. “Tintinabulation” was one of our favourites until someone came up with “susurration”.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Gill: So many poets have had influence over my work it feels unfair to pick one out. I love the brevity of Jane Kenyon, and also of Chinese and Japanese poetry. I often turn to the work of Tomas Transtromer, Ted Kooser, Louis Macneice, Wendell Berry, the late Anna Adams, Eavan Boland, Derek Mahon and Tony Hoagland.

Q3: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing? Have any travels away from home influence your work?

Gill: childhood was spent in many different parts of England, mostly in the country where I learned to love wildflowers, trees, birds and insects and these appear frequently I my poems. As an adult I spent time in USA, Finland Canada and Ireland and many of my poems reflect these periods in my life, in particular the USA.

Q4: What do you consider the most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far?

Gill: Of all my work the collection most difficult to write was my pamphlet “The First Telling”, (Happenstance Press 2014) It deals with the aftermath of rape, not, I’m pleased to say, my own experience but that of someone very dear to me. It won public approval by winning the 2015 Michael Marks Award, as a result of which I had an amazing two-week residency in Greece as guest of the Harvard Centre for Hellenic Studies in Nafplion.

Q5: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?

Gill: From childhood I knew I wanted to be a writer, but I don’t think I expected to become a poet, though I wrote poetry for many years before ever thinking to publish it. My pivotal moment here, and it was enormous, was being diagnosed in 2000 with late-stage ovarian cancer. It was thought I wouldn’t survive but I did, thankfully.

Q6: Favorite activities to relax? no answer

Q7: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Gill: I have gone on since then to write intensely, poetry as my metier, to have 3 full collections and 3 pamphlets published and to win a number of prizes for my work. My recent collection is “Are You Listening?” (Hedgehog Press 2020) that traces the journey through my grief for my late husband.


Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem of yours or others?

Gill: I don’t have a favourite line from any of my poems, but I do have a favourite poem I’m really proud of having written and it is “Football, Kuala Lumpur”, about boys playing the game in monsoon rain and frogs springing from the storm drains to play at their own games. The first stanza reads “Rain.. ..loves/ the way the open hands/ of city trees receive it/ the way its great drops/trampoline the pavements.” It was published in “The Plucking Shed” (Cinnamon press 2010).

Q9: Who has helped you most with writing?

Gill: Of all the professional encouragement and help I received in my writing the greatest came from Helena Nelson, editor of Happenstance Press. She was kind, expressed belief in my work, and gave me much valuable advice. I am very grateful to her.

Micro Poems & a few longer ones by David L O’Nan

Angelic Protectors

Awake after nightmares
Of dragons
Lost job offer arguments
A quiet time
once you hear his truck
Leave to his affairs,
to his home cooking
Chocolate cake desserts
when we eat mini ravioli
And generic macaroni & cheese
Stale snack cakes too
Somehow, we find the energy
To wrestle in swing sets,
bleeding out skinned knees
In the trees
We see faces
Imagine them as our angelic protectors


With thought to thought
Kindling closer to the shadow weaver
We meshed in shadows for a moment
We touched hands and glow for a moment
Yes, a dark glow
But a glow anyways
That is all it was
And that is all it needs to be
So, now I’m skin and you’re salt
So, now I’m burning
and you’re oil
In broken words
from another day
We were one
For the moment


You were born on a trip,
maybe a tunnel.
You were fished out of the lake
and they told you that you are beautiful.
So, they held you up towards the sunlight
to see your perfections,
only now they saw the little rippled rips
of your soul drips.
And now you are just a disease.
A mass will feed off the sadness
of a blind man's blues song
depicting you as a raging river cancer.

The Impossible

Love is the Impossible
You just allow me to be slime
Step Over Me
Never Looking Back
Maybe you’ll see the reflection
But Ignore it
The possibility is never engaged
Winter Hands you have
Shaking, cold, always a muted void
love is the impossible
Warmth is not programmed in your heart
I’m dreaming as a kid watching clouds mate
They are so loving
Such a hug
Articulating the sunlight
Love is the Impossible?

The Shouts of Wind

Hands on mouth
Shout little wind…shout!
Can we follow the ghetto light?
Can we trade our beauty for love?
So, he’s a star you shine for…not much of a star
Just ego
With diluted smiles, crooked words
Untamed lips
Why can’t stars realize they are just light
They are not special…only light
With eyes on eyes
Evaporate little scarecrow tears,
Stagnant bored tear,
Can we linger dead when life’s poisons is in our
So, this is what it is
Alone…crippling tree and all?


they melt on bones
Before the cutting shapes & moulding
My dreams were built on adversity
overcoming the reality
Battling the ego brains
Who wants to dapper in the cavities
Since juvenile years
I’ve always thought of myself as
The swimming fish that scurry
from the sharks, lil’ one
Tap on the narcissism drum
Play with my brittle heart
like legos
Shadows are cloned in my peaceful soul.

From Sunset to Mercy

By yes, I meant supremacy
Voided into the waves of my mind
There is a sunset,
but I’m a novice to love
I’ve tried before,
back when I thought all was normal
Looked at love
Spun in circles
and dreamt into a psychedelic phase
It hung in the air,
remaining neutral
Once clutching to pull,
and it could go either way
By no, I meant lonely
Something catchy
bit me in the heart
Wanted me to hear it,
But then I wanted to evolve into space
Becoming stars
and a fortnight’s moon break
Sent to organize the ego of implicit rage
That music box
was broken before it had ever been played
Jolly laughter was croaking by the seaside
Wanting sand to become one with the sun
But the sun,
had its own brand of mercy
When it shimmered then singed,
melting back into my brain.

Rainbows in Smoke

With gas masks laying in the clipped beach
Thrills of misery worth the laying of face-downs
Fishing in the swamp
Hands over the masked faces
Crying over monster shadows
Ears that hear echoed folly
The words that are lost in vapor trails
Following sanity back to its old well
I have feet that jump over every obstacle
While laughing,
I pray that the joker is mine
All the smiles, all the fun,
all is captured
In clutching hands,
I run
I tap the roof of heaven as I jump over the trees
My code word is victory,
As I light the rainbow with ease
Starting as a small spark,
works to a flame
Minutes into the inferno,
the next second the world ablaze
The friends know this laughter,
they know I must soar
They know that fantasy is only that
of Mother Nature’s bore
Wicked diamonds shine over our death
Encasing the energy that pulsates
through the chest
Lectures from sad eyes leading to silent howls
Lonely wolves, proud moments now
walking with canes
She still looks pretty after each mile
I have escaped
Even when grey,
she still has those deadpan movie star eyes
Soar higher,
jump with your steel legs
Once they were noodles,
now they will not break
This time break apart the clouds
Allow it to rain
We need to heal,
keeping the sunshine sealed.

This is My Life for You

I was kidnapped before birth 
To the cult of love
The glory of the wren’s flight 
To the wind
I watch from the magic of eyes above 
Relax in my golden stare.
And I lay dead brushing strokes through your hair 
Childlike in my confusion.

In days where my temper is a fever 
The irate bird,
The imperfect weaver
Stole the stripes from the zebra
You can’t read me with all these lines 
I blur, mutate, static
Even stagnate in and out of bravery.

I can be irritating and uncomfortable 
Unshakable and self-destructible
Even when my heartbeats sing your name 
I am sometimes lost,
Most of the time really

I feel heaven in my veins 
But, in my brain I feel silly
Until moments I can’t breathe in prayer.

I wish on stars,
Lived inside the moon I lit candles,
Burned incense for you 
Years ago, in cosmos
I sent energy for you universally
But dare I say I put myself in a slight hex.

Outside of you,
I just continually pile up in a million car wrecks 
I have lost people,
All of the time
Even familial times have gone by
A lost tunnel of my father, sisters, and brothers.

And looking up to me
I see all the women in the curses of the past
In moments they tricked me like a sassy demon 
Yet, I feel like i’m the one that failed
Will they just wash away with the fires in them? 
I love you more than the melting of the blue skies

My mind absorbs in all the good from you
I can only hope to share with you my eternal touch. 
Even when most of what is left of me
Doesn’t matter much. 
This, this, this, this! 
This is my life,
For you

Winter Wheels Roll Backwards

Winter wheels do roll backwards
In the ice wagons plucking against the cobblestones 
Christmas was eagerly awaited
Behind us
‘Twas like a sneak Twisted in leaves
Watching the sun become white 
Crusting over with frost
Bells of the season began the ringing 
We let our eyes be the season
We buried Autumn’s fears in the snow 
Began to dream the familiar holiday dream 
Sipped warm cider as thieves walk by
Waiting for the comfort to solidify this mortal coil 
A real fantasy
The season can unite 
Ugliness with the dynamic
The love of a mother with the spite of a father. 
This season of Silver Bells
The businesses provide the therapeutic facade
For a few weeks we can pretend to be comfortable again 
The hype
The green money spent
This season of crowded sidewalks 
Shopping bags
The weight of wanted love and acceptance
The awakening of high school janitor Santa Clauses 
Temp Agency Reindeer,
The Church parades,
The lights of the city are intoxicating
Beaming on the baby Jesus in the Nativity scene 
The music tickles on our nerves
And we begin to dance without cares
The snow was meant for us to dance through. 
Never intended for the endless busy cars
The bossy shopgoers bumping into our Anxiety disorders. 
No mix of the mud and oil in the purity of snow.
White, so pure
And for a few minutes
I began to believe in Heaven again.


You said “Marry Me”
In your diamond ring dreams
Polishing dollar signs with mop water
Watch me turn from genius to mummy
And watch me take down all comers
Playing tennis with the gold diggers
Once they find you’re fraudulent
Their brain will be exposed to be the same


Evict us from the pain of heart
Still lays a convict of soul
Behind frostbite upon the jugular
Are tracks to discovery, a unity
We are 2 dead pigeons cradling
Wings clipped
A fellowship in our prison
Hurdle and fledge, flight vacated
Amity until no more.


An ardent man
Severed through the sprouts 
claiming the land of melancholy
As his passion property
Burned to the core, a perishing
Through the tufts,
And digesting away the organic masses
Enter the sky,
Pin away at the clouds

To puncture,
Releasing the waters
Drown the greed
Into stark-raving drudgery.


Another heartbeat bandit 
Dripping in the filth of lies
Love doesn’t sprout in the grip of the flowers
There are no truths in a blind man’s masquerade
You can’t put a bow of bandages over the scars
And call everything alright
When you can smell the spoiling
Save your sobbing for the jailor’s sleeve.


Looking sharp
Not a Rat
Staring into the sun
Blind paper crown rejections
As the giants smash through the flowers
Without a care
A liar’s bravado
See yourself in that mirror
Roll those damn dice
No power
You are a cigarette butt
In a tiny suit
Hypocrites that drink sewage as truth.


A two-faced Ophidian 
Swirls in for an attack
To grab the soul
To sip at the poison
That blisters in the afterglow
Leading a manifestation
Of dancing spirits
Piercing in our throats
Now let the moonlight
Evaporate all the decay
Take in a deep breath of redemption stars.


The wedding
Then the honeymoon
Oh, that is just a nosebleed
The civic robots peer wonderstruck
To drink in the gossip
Enrich their swaying minds
Oh, how pleasant they can be
When your bliss has been shattered to smithereens
And your punk is with some new tarts 
down by the alligator stream

You’re stuck with a denial smile
In a copacetic hotel, 
that is welcoming a burglary


Spun around the world
In one dramatic pantomime
At our core was love
My outer shell split by the wicked
Watch the guiding light dim
As the monsters begin to gather
To tear apart my beauty
As love is now just a feast for the drama, the nihilism pours over
We ruin, alas

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios:  David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

Mini Poems by David L O’Nan

Poem by David L O’Nan : “Cartoon”

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Sarika Jaswani (artincrochet)

with Sarika Jaswani:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Sarika: -I believe writing must do more with listening than it has ever been emphasized. A writer listens to the stories that speak to his/her mind. If I’ve to say when I started writing, then indisputably I will roll back time to my childhood when dad narrated his bed-time stories in his classic commentary style and lulled us to sleep. He has to date been my biggest influences in story writing. I have been a blogger for a while now but since few years I have delved into writing and have few self-published and illustrated children’s stories up my sleeve. Poetry became a tantivy follow. https://spinayarntellatale.wordpress.com

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Sarika: -With a bachelor’s degree in medical field and a Postgraduate Diploma in Clinical and Community Psychology my interest has naturally been inclined towards theoretical/metaphysical studies. My philosophical upbringing has had influence on my choice of reading. I really enjoy Steve Hagen, founder, and head teacher of Zen Center in Minneapolis. Steve’s writing is a marriage of science and spirituality, which I find fascinating. He has been my greatest influence in all ort of my personal story writes that I’ve whipped out on my Blogspot. http://sarikajaswani.blogspot.com

Q3: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing/art?

Sarika: My country of origin is India. The plus side of growing in a diverse country is getting enriched in art and knowledge of languages. Born in a country that identifies itself with nativity of 60 different languages and several cultures, I am bound to know five or more languages by default. I might be fluent in writing English, but I speak my mother tongue more fluently. I enjoy listening to Hindi poetry and I understand Gujarati equally well. With being fluent in variety of languages you are gifted with a broader brush stroke to paint an emotive picture and create an evocative art. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B088QNZ8C3/ref=cm_sw_r_other_apa_i_eTAWEb0A3FGKP

Q4: What do you consider the most meaningful work that you’ve done creatively so far?


Doctor by profession. I am a Crochet Artist, Art Tutor Writer of Children’s Stories, Philanthropist. Poet. Published. Passionately reads & writes poetry. Art Lover. Bird lover. Dreamer and blogger.

Published on 

-‘Tide Rises Tide Falls’

-On Medium with A Cornered Gurl @ACG @Scrittura

-Fever Of Mind Poetry on WordPress

-Silver Birch Press

-a frequent vss prompt writer on twitter. 

My poems run on themes of love, reflection, and philosophy of life. 

My most meaningful work is non-profit ArtInCrochet

ArtInCrochet is a decade old non-profit, donating hats & scarfs to orphanages & shelter homes. Fundraising since 2016-2020 through sale of handmade crochet items has raised more than $3000 & counting for kids in need.

Donation have been done to:

@ Camphill Village – New York 

@ Jars of Clay – Atlanta 

@ Knit for Sewa – India 

@ Children’s Hospital Atlanta 

@ Kids In Need Foundation

@Access Life America

@ Orphanages around Atlanta 

@ Hanuman Temple – Atlanta

@ VHPA- Atlanta Chapter

@ Shiv Temple of Atlanta

@ Oklahoma City Health Department 

@ American Heart Institute

@ St. Jude Children’s Research Institute 

@ Autism Speaks

@ World Food Program 

@ Warm Up America

@ Walter Reed Military Medical Center

@ Atlanta Women’s Shelters 

@ Lion Brand Hat no Hate Campaign

@ Children’s Miracle Network of Atlanta 

@ Focus & Fragile 

@ Grenada Alumni

@ PureHearts.org

Sarika Jaswani is a certified crochet instructor from American Craft Council. She has conducted classes at Alpharetta Main Branch Library, Art Center Alpharetta & Michael’s Community Classroom Alpharetta Georgia. She has authored Original Children’s Stories for her toy with stories series and are available as nook book on BN.com & Amazon Kindle read.

Funds raised through her teaching crochet art are used to donate books to various underprivileged schools around the world. Etsy page www.etsy.com/shop/ArtInCrochet

Q5: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be an artist/poet?


Love drives art. It is an ultimate fuel for an artist. Gain and loss, both are the biggest inspiration for a        writer/poet. Poetry is the child birthed with labor of emotions that an artist endures. I do believe we all need a way of expressing and reaching out to others. Being a recluse hermit myself, writing always has been a creative and a salubrious way for pronouncing my emotions.

Reading stories to my kids has been an inspiration to write illustrative stories for children. Story telling has been my favorite part of parenting. I have volunteered at schools to make puppet theaters and have phrased stories to go along.

Q6: Favorite activities to relax?

Sarika: I enjoy reading/audible a lot of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, prose. I enjoy watching tv shows, movies. I also enjoy listening to all kinds of music and karaoke. Other than that my day is filled with activities that revolve around my two kids. Charity fundraisers and making crochet inventory for sale are the major highlights of my activities to occupy my planner.

Q7: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Sarika: I am stoked for acceptance of my manuscript by New York based Austin Macauley Publishers.

I am still debating publishing my work, but I definitely am looking forward to writing more inspiring poetry for acceptance and publication in main stream media and establish myself as a poetess.

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem of yours or others?


Too Many Names -By Pablo Neruda

This means to say that scarcely
have we landed into life
than we come as if new-born;
let us not fill our mouths
with so many faltering names,
with so many sad formalities,
with so many pompous letters,
with so much of yours and mine,
with so much of signing of papers.

I have a mind to confuse things,
unite them, bring them to birth,
mix them up, undress them,
until the light of the world
has the oneness of the ocean,
a generous, vast wholeness,
a crepitant fragrance.

Q9: Who has helped you most with writing?

Sarika: I love vss365 community on twitter. They are the creme de la creme of kindness. They motivate, inspire and uplift. My best way to stay inspired is to open my twitter app and take in beautiful poetry with a cup of tea each morning😊 https://www.twitter.com/sarikajaswani

#stopthehate challenge poem by Sarika Jaswani

A Book Review of Pen Muses a compilation of 60 poems by Sarika Jaswani (reviewed by Mashaal Sajid)

New poetry by Sarika Jaswani (artincrochet) : Since You’ve been gone…

Untitled micropoem by Sarika Jaswani

Wolfpack Contributor Bio: Sarika Jaswani

2 poems by Sarika Jaswani /ArtInCrochet


A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Peter Hague

with Peter Hague:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Peter: My first experiences with serious writing came in 1972, inspired by the work of Leonard Cohen. At that time, I was well aware of his music, but I saw a copy of his book: ‘The energy of Slaves’ in a shop window and bought it. I then bought all of his books – poetry and novels, which many will be surprised to learn, go back to the mid-1950s. I found his style deeply intriguing and often laced with humour. I was a student then, miles from home and starting to explore a sudden new world. I think Cohen’s work filled in some of the blank spaces and energised a new creativity in me.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Peter: I have no current influences. I think that I have found my voice now, after all this time and continue to develop it. However, I am still greatly motivated by all the true and worthy influences I have had over the years. Shortly after Leonard Cohen, I discovered T.S Eliot and many more. These people still influence me today: Wallace Stevens; Kathleen Raine; Anne Sexton; Sylvia Plath; Philip Larkin; Robert Lowell; Edward Thomas – many more.

Q3: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing? Have any travels away from home influence your work?

Peter: I grew up in the North of England but I do not consider myself to be a “northern poet”. I spent a period of my early life in the south west, which seems much further away than it is now, and I think the outcome of that developed the idea that it was best to try to be international. I feel more comfortable using my words to reach a wide range of people and I have always associated myself with America. I have also always been interested in the bold national diversities of European countries and their traditions. Individuals worldwide are for the most part, very similar in needs and ambition and although this can help to simplify the message, it offers the need for deeper creativity and a broader brush.

Q4: What do you consider the most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far?

Peter: Well, the answer to that will always be my poetry, especially now I have decided to devote the remaining years of my life to it. I spent most of my life in the world of visual arts, as a creative director, and also a recent decade as a digital artist, using the art name ‘e-brink’. You can see my updated web site covering that period at: www.e-brink.co.uk. However, throughout the years I have always continued to write and study poetry and have completely redesigned my main web site, which is now all about my current writing. The address is https://www.peterhague.com. This is me finally putting my writing first and I have a great deal to offer, with more books already in production featuring both new and old work.

Q5: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?

Peter: I think that goes back to when I had just left school and worked briefly as a painter and decorator. I remember being up a ladder painting a gutter when I suddenly had an epiphany (partly guided by ideas from my Mother). I promptly decided to apply to the local Art School, which I did – that was the start of it – two years of revelation. I later spent three years at The West of England College of Art in Bristol (School of Art and Design – UWE Bristol) doing a graphic design course.

Q6: Favorite activities to relax?

Peter: I have been known to read.

Q7: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Peter: I’ve just published two books of poetry and will be spending some time promoting them. ‘Hope in the Heart of Hatred’ is intended to be a bridging book between the work I am doing now and my early work. ‘Gain of Function’ is my very latest work. It features one hundred and two poems, some of which have been published in various places, including Twitter and your very own, Fevers of the Mind.

Amazon link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B0976BLVNL

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem of yours or others?


As the first wave rebounds
from the squalor of population,
we wear its shadow
like a stiff, new coat.

Q9: Who has helped you most with writing?

Peter: Throughout my life I have always returned to writing and I have tried hard to perfect what I do with it. Editing is the main part of everything I do and I have learnt so much from revising my own work. Therefore, I think I would have to say to this question that I mostly helped myself. Having said that, all the influences mentioned above and my study of their work has been priceless. Being a writer is not easy though. There is a definite sense, real or imagined, that the world is pushing back. You really have to be confident in your own talent and purpose to keep going. Having done so, over the years, I now have complete confidence in my work.

Wolfpack Contributor Bio: Peter Hague

2 poems by Peter Hague in Fevers of the Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020

Avalanches in Poetry 2 entries by Peter Hague : “I Did Not Want it Darker””Between Leonards” “Following Leonard”

Twitter @PeterHague