‘The Edge of Reality’: Paul Magee in Conversation with Paul Collis, Jen Crawford and Wayne Knight

By , , and | 1 September 2023
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PM: The mystics constantly use metaphors from blindness, or speak of becoming deaf to the noise of the world, so that you can hear other things.

PC: I remember Jackson Pollock, after he did Blue Poles – he didn’t do one Blue Poles, he did a series of them – saying he’d climb to the top of a ladder and let the paint drip from the brush. That was the painting. He said, ‘I want to remove myself as far as possible from the painting.’

Seems to be an element of that when you talk about writing poetry, wanting to remove yourself and let something else talk.

PM: Something that’s more you than yourself. Like when you were talking about the different-coloured blood. That really struck a vein, for me. That’s where I think the best writing comes from.

But it can happen in conversation too. When you’re chatting with people, and feeling free about it, you lose your censorship – your sense of observing yourself and making sure what you say sounds right – and you just leap from the last thing that’s been said. The words fly out. That’s another way to get at those sources, I think.

Or when you come to places like here. Where it’s so different to me.

PC: I want to go back to Jen, where this country isn’t so different, and end with another question – maybe a thought.

Last time you came here, there was a young boy with you. This time he’s back in Canberra.

But is he even more present today?

JC: Certainly, when I feel him missing me, or me missing him.

As we’re talking, I’ve been thinking about a Mei Mei Berssenbrugge poem, which is called ‘Hello, the Roses.’

She contends that roses, through their colour, and through their scent, are actively communicating. So, when I say there’s a sense of introduction here, it’s about that careful getting to know someone, when a relationship is already important to you.

As we’ve been talking, I’ve been watching this ant and it’s been going for about 10 minutes, one of these big black ants, and it’s carrying another ant. I think the other ant is dead. It went into a little kind of shelter, a leaf shelter and I thought, ‘Oh well it’ll be going down into its nest, taking the body down into the nest.’

Then it’s been carrying it around, and carrying it around, all the time you were telling the story about your Dad.

PC: Do ants come from other ants, or does it all come from one ant? I don’t know. I know bees have a queen bee when they fly back. You see it in the film, The Dance of the Bumblebee. It comes and lands on the platform, to go back into the hive. It’s communicating with other bees, about where they come from.

I wonder if ants do the same.

JC: I’ve been wondering why the other ants aren’t helping that ant. But then maybe they’ve gone under that shelter and somebody else has picked the ant up, I don’t know.

PC: There, my friends, is where we’ll leave this interesting tale of intrigue, mystery and discovery.

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Paul Magee studied in Melbourne, Moscow, San Salvador and Sydney. He is author of From Here to Tierra del Fuego (University of Illinois Press: 2000), Cube Root of Book (John Leonard Press: 2006), Stone Postcard (John Leonard Press: 2014) and Suddenness and the Composition of Poetic Thought (Rowman and Littlefield: 2022). Paul is Professor of Poetry at the University of Canberra, where he directs the Centre for Cultural and Creative Research (CCCR).

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Jen Crawford is author of Admissions (Five Islands Press, 2000), bad appendix (Auckland: Titus Books, 2009), Napoleon Swings (Auckland: Soapbox Press, 2009), Pop Riveter (Auckland: Pania Press, 2011), Koel (Cordite Books, 2016) and Lichen Loves Stone (Tinfish Press, 2016). With Rina Kikuchi, Jen co-edited and part-translated Poet to Poet: Contemporary Women Poets from Japan (2017), an anthology of 10 contemporary female Japanese poets. Jen is an Associate Professor in Creative Writing at the University of Canberra.

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Wayne Knight is a Barkindji/Kunya person. Wayne was born and raised in Bourke. Wayne’s early life was informed by his Grandmother, Neta, a Kunya Elder who lived in Bourke, and who taught Wayne 'cross-language talk' (a multilingual speak that was used between Kunya, Barkindji, Murrawarri, Wongamara language groups in communication, before the coming of Westerners to the Plains Country of his birth). Wayne was taught how to track and identify specific plants and animals by his Grandfather Hope (a Barkindji person). Wayne's knowledge of Barkindji lands was enhanced with and under the tuition of senior Barkindji Uncles and Elders, who assisted his teaching of the waterways between Brewarrina and Menendi Lakes areas, and on the plains country, between Brewarrina (Nyemba Country) and Bourke, Cobar and Wilcannia. Wayne held a senior Indigenous Parks and Wildlife Officer's position with NSW Dept. Parks and Wildlife until a serious back injury caused him to retreat from that work. Wayne's knowledge of Barkindji Culture and Country is unmatched in the Bourke area.

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Paul Collis is a Barkindji man. He was born in Bourke, in far north/west New South Wales. His early life was informed by Barkindji, Kunya, Murawarri, Wongamara and Nyempa story tellers and artists, who taught him Aboriginal Culture and Law. He is author of Dancing Home (University of Queensland Press, 2017) and Nightmares Run Like Mercury (Recent Works Press, 2021). Paul works as Director, Indigenous Engagement, at the University of Canberra.

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