The website of writer and poet Daniel Bennett
Brooklyn Here we dreamed through the waking hours,forced alert by jet lag and monstrous snow.A valentine in sub-zero. Wind burnor gin blossoms on the C train.A freeze chased us through Washington Squareinto the aisles of the Strand. Brooklyn Bridge stalked the river like a monster.Have you ever woken from sleepinto an old movie? Here I … Continue reading The Kindling
At some point, lyrics became unimportant. Probably around my late twenties, when I stopped really caring about live music. I think some of Smog albums were the last I remember enjoying for lyrical content, and that's suddenly a long time ago. It’s an odd situation for someone who professes to be interested in words. Whenever … Continue reading In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country
When I was very young, my father told me stories of a cycling holiday he had taken in the Netherlands during his early twenties. One spring, a little after my thirtieth birthday, I took two weeks off work to follow his journey. I spent the days cycling almost without rest, the nights sleeping by the … Continue reading When You Decided To Call
"I ain't never heard so much concentrated weirdness in my life..." The return of Twin Peaks prompted a lot of excitement amongst some of my friends. One sent me a Spotify playlist dedicated to the music of David Lynch’s films, while I was persuaded by another to join him watching the original series and film, … Continue reading Barry Gifford
It is 2000, nine months into the new millennium, and he has lived in London for nearly three years. He rents a flat with his girlfriend, on the edge of Brixton, near the back entrance to Brockwell Park. When they first moved here, they would walk across the park some evenings, to a restaurant under … Continue reading Summer Reading: Goodbye Columbus by Philip Roth
It is 2009, and the summer is a hot one at its best. Most days, he travels to London for work, heading out from the small town where he lives with his wife and daughter. The journey is long, but he has learned to make use of the time, reading, working on a novel, sedating … Continue reading Summer Reading: Last Evenings on Earth by Roberto Bolano
Summer drifts in with chestnut pollen on the streets and the electrics of occasional storms. The nights open themselves, and we sleep with the windows ajar, allowing the breeze to drift through our flat on the first floor. It brings the smell of smoke in on its back, occasional traffic noises, a blackbird's evening call. … Continue reading Summer Reading
I’d like to say that I discovered Robinson for myself, but as usual someone else had to show me the way. I seem to require jumpstarts like this to overcome the indolence, which seems to be my natural state. Alarmingly, as I grow older, I seem more in the grip of this laziness: a paralysis … Continue reading My Copy Of Robinson
It's taken me a while to get to writing about Tom Raworth's death, partly because life doesn't always allow room for the losses which affect us, partly because such things always take me a little time to get right. I met Tom Raworth in the mid-nineties. He will always feature on the short list of writers … Continue reading Tom Raworth
'Yet he did not hesitate in his career, but, with a mad energy, retraced his steps at once, to the heart of the mighty London.' Edgar Allan Poe My daughter wants to be a detective. I’ve explained to her that this is a high aim. The other day, two men passed us on our way to school. … Continue reading Walking
Absence Club 