JF: One of the powerful things I think about poetry in particular is that, generally speaking, it’s not so bound to the values of the market, and so, there’s some unpicking work and subversion that can go on in that form in ways that more market-bound forms of writing might not allow.

JL: It’s still a bit market-bound, particularly in terms of collections. On the whole, publishers think they won’t make a lot of money, so they do a very slim number of poetry collections. But yes, it’s not as susceptible to market forces. Nor should it be. There is a certain power in that. But there is also a certain suppression in that as well. It’s like: where does the poetry go?

The purpose of critique should be to assert a set of values that is not dictated by market or mainstream. Otherwise, you’re just repeating the same kind of discourses and status quo that has always happened.

I do think that, on the whole, a lot of First Nations poets might come to poetry with a feeling, perhaps, of a bit more room to move. I mean, there are some good places to publish individual poems, and platforms that do good work. You’re doing this interview for Cordite Poetry Review, or there’s Red Room, there’s Australian Poetry, there’s some pretty good ‘people’s publishers’ of poetry that do publish quite a broad demographic.

JF: Do you have any advice for First Nations poets who are just beginning to write or just beginning to publish, in terms of doing that powerful but quiet subversive work? Or any advice for engaging with Australian publishing?

JL: There’s a few things I could say. I think it’s really important to read what other poets are doing.

JF: [laughs] Yep!

JL: Of course, it will contain your own originality and inspiration, but it’s also part of a bigger movement. It’s not just dropping out of the sky, only to you. You are part of a momentum, I suppose. And then, think about what you want to do as a poet. Why are you choosing to write poetry? In terms of dealing with publishers, I suppose you just start small. And be aware: what is the broader context of First Nations writing cultures? What are the things that matter? What are the things that have occupied other peoples’ writings and creative offerings? And where you can place those. And I think, you know, there is a market out there – [barking in the background]. Rocky, no. Sorry, that’s my dog.

JF: Hi Rocky!

JL: There is a market out there, but don’t get too discouraged. A lot of writers give this advice: you should make rejection part of your job statement.

JF: Keep a specific drawer in your desk for all the rejections.

JL: Yeah. I’ve been mentoring a young poet recently who’s had a lot of poetry published, stand-alone poems, which is a good thing, but there’s also just one press that they continually don’t get in. Well, if that’s the case, it’s probably because that press wants something else.

JF: So, go sideways. Go elsewhere.

JL: Go sideways, and when you submit something, you’re always going to be subject to the editing/vetting process in some way or another.

JF: Speaking of the market, we’ve seen the incredible success of Evelyn Araluen’s Dropbear, how actually broad and deep the appeal of poetry can be. That has been a top-selling book all year.

JL: It has been. And because it is pushing the boundaries of poetry, and it’s very much experimenting. It’s drawing very strongly on a literary tradition, that it acknowledges, a First Nations literary tradition, and incorporating that into an original collection in new ways. It’s easy to read, it’s very diverse.

JF: Lots of different forms and approaches, yep. And I suppose that’s it, for First Nations writers who are coming up, there’s this incredibly powerful, vibrant river of Indigenous writing in this country, that can bear you forward.

JL: The most exciting writing is coming from the margins, and like all change, it really does happen in the margins. Margins don’t just sit passively, they infiltrate and move forward until the centre can’t really hold any more.

JF: And sometimes this is happening under the radar …

JL: For quite a long time. By ripple effect.

JF: So, talk to me about the role of humour in your work.

JL: Humour. Well, I think it’s interesting, because I didn’t really think too much about it until people started talking to me about it. There was this kind of persona, that kind of behaviour in my life that I thought was just normal. Because humour has been noted in my work, alongside some bleak or very serious stuff, I think it’s because that’s just how life was. People speak about First Nations humour as being a mechanism of survival. It can be very self-deprecating, but it can be uplifting as well. People often can make light of or laugh at situations that other people wouldn’t.

JF: Yes. Black humour is among my favourite forms, I have to say. If you’re not gonna laugh, then you’re gonna cry.

JL: I remember there’s a scene in one of these books like Biting Back, there’s a great scene where the mother says, ‘I’ll prepare you a really good colonial feast’, and she gives him corned meat and Tim Tams.

JF: [laughs]

JL: She gives him, like, corned meat sliced up and Tim Tams on a plate. It’s funny. But it’s really symbolic. My auntie’s humour was about undercutting situations with a really dry realism. My aunt referring to the Federal Farmers Federation as the Feral Farmers Federation. Really dry, off-the-cuff. I didn’t think about it much until people started talking to me about it, because I was writing very much, particularly in the prose work I did, I was just writing life and recounting dialogue. It is something I notice that’s present in different ways. Alexis Wright is hilarious.

JF: She’s hilarious.

JL: In the bleakest situations.

JF: I love her absurdism. She’s very funny. And you know, to laugh at the coloniser, to laugh at the oppressor, or at the person more powerful, is a strategy. It sounds like it arose quite organically, at least in your early work?

JL: There are some things that come at post-invasion interface culture. There’s a thing the Irish have, if you swear at some of the English upper-class people, particularly if you use the C or the F work, they get so upset, they can’t focus.