- 120: DIALOGUEwith E Chong 119: FITwith E Collyer 118: PRECARIOUSwith A Jackson 117: NO THEME 14with A Creece 116: REMEMBERwith M Sahhar and A Te Whiu 115: SPACEwith A Sometimes 114: NO THEME 13with J Toledo & C Tse 113: INVISIBLE WALLSwith A Walker & D Disney 112: TREATwith T Dearborn 111: BABYwith S Deo & L Ferney 110: POP!with Z Frost & B Jessen 109: NO THEME 12with C Maling & N Rhook 108: DEDICATIONwith L Patterson & L Garcia-Dolnik 107: LIMINALwith B Li 106: OPENwith C Lowe & J Langdon 105: NO THEME 11with E Grills & E Stewart 104: KINwith E Shiosaki 103: AMBLEwith E Gomez and S Gory 102: GAMEwith R Green and J Maxwell 101: NO THEME 10with J Kinsella and J Leanne 100: BROWNFACE with W S Dunn 99: SINGAPOREwith J Ip and A Pang 97 & 98: PROPAGANDAwith M Breeze and S Groth 96: NO THEME IXwith M Gill and J Thayil 95: EARTHwith M Takolander 94: BAYTwith Z Hashem Beck 93: PEACHwith L Van, G Mouratidis, L Toong 92: NO THEME VIIIwith C Gaskin 91: MONSTERwith N Curnow 90: AFRICAN DIASPORAwith S Umar 89: DOMESTICwith N Harkin 88: TRANSQUEERwith S Barnes and Q Eades 87: DIFFICULTwith O Schwartz & H Isemonger 86: NO THEME VIIwith L Gorton 85: PHILIPPINESwith Mookie L and S Lua 84: SUBURBIAwith L Brown and N O'Reilly 83: MATHEMATICSwith F Hile 82: LANDwith J Stuart and J Gibian 81: NEW CARIBBEANwith V Lucien 80: NO THEME VIwith J Beveridge 57.1: EKPHRASTICwith C Atherton and P Hetherington 57: CONFESSIONwith K Glastonbury 56: EXPLODE with D Disney 55.1: DALIT / INDIGENOUSwith M Chakraborty and K MacCarter 55: FUTURE MACHINES with Bella Li 54: NO THEME V with F Wright and O Sakr 53.0: THE END with P Brown 52.0: TOIL with C Jenkins 51.1: UMAMI with L Davies and Lifted Brow 51.0: TRANSTASMAN with B Cassidy 50.0: NO THEME IV with J Tranter 49.1: A BRITISH / IRISH with M Hall and S Seita 49.0: OBSOLETE with T Ryan 48.1: CANADA with K MacCarter and S Rhodes 48.0: CONSTRAINT with C Wakeling 47.0: COLLABORATION with L Armand and H Lambert 46.1: MELBOURNE with M Farrell 46.0: NO THEME III with F Plunkett 45.0: SILENCE with J Owen 44.0: GONDWANALAND with D Motion 43.1: PUMPKIN with K MacCarter 43.0: MASQUE with A Vickery 42.0: NO THEME II with G Ryan 41.1: RATBAGGERY with D Hose 41.0: TRANSPACIFIC with J Rowe and M Nardone 40.1: INDONESIA with K MacCarter 40.0: INTERLOCUTOR with L Hart 39.1: GIBBERBIRD with S Gory 39.0: JACKPOT! with S Wagan Watson 38.0: SYDNEY with A Lorange 37.1: NEBRASKA with S Whalen 37.0: NO THEME! with A Wearne 36.0: ELECTRONICA with J Jones
Zoe Dattner: The Greeting Card Writers
Poets come in many different shapes and forms. I'm not about to give you my ideas as to what makes a poet because I don't think I'm qualified. What I am interested in however, is all the different subsets of humanity where poetry exists. Where individuals take it upon themselves to express something in words, something they believe is representative of the way in which we all live our lives, the similarities in the human existence that highlight the fact that we are all suffering from, laughing at, celebrating, the same things. And so it was that I began to develop an obsession of sorts, that has since become an affection, for those unsung heroes, the Greeting Card writers.
Continue reading
Posted in ESSAYS
Tagged bad poetry, greeting cards, Hallmark
I ‘member
I 'member we strutted down the street
ass to cheek — safety in numbers
chanting loud lyrics to a tune
we'd later learn was Ellington's “Night Train~”
-“Yo mama she don't even care
she wears yo daddy's underwea
Yo mama unh, unh, unh-”
Racing to the next insult
“hate to talk about yo' mama
she's a good ole soul
she got a humpback booty
and a rubber asshole.”
Perverting Pepsodent commercials:
“You'll wonder where the yellow went
when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent
'Cause when your teeth are turnin' black
You'll wish you had that yellow back.”
I 'member double dutch lyrics tastier, racier
escalatin' footwork, patchwork of rhythm and
sources, rhymes, syncopation, nation building
sisterhood, sibilance and early romance dancing
-A million versions of Miss Mary Mack and Jimmy
Crack Corn, later blues and news that traveled from
distant drums through footwork thrums, braids and
bellowing
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Vernyce Dannells
A Little Kindness
Let's please try not to be so barbaric.
If we must kill baby seals, cows or hogs,
let's just shoot them with tiny darts filled with
strong doses of the purest heroin.
If we must shoot humiliated children
armed only with kamikaze belts
and pavement stones, let's do it with tiny darts
full of a potion that makes them hungry
then open all the restaurants and offer steaks
carved from cows killed with wonder drugs.
And if we must bomb ancient cities such as
Belgrade let's do it with giant waterbombs
only after the advance uncover teams
infiltrate the city and steal the towels.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged David McFadden
A Very Calm Demeanour
For John Lennon's 61's birthday Oct. 9/01
It's always good to be prepared for death
because of course it could happen any time-
the Dalai Lama instructs us how the live
as if we're shadowed by a sniper –
but with gangs of terrorists bombing the U.S.A.
and Americans firebombing the Afghanis
with pneumonic plague breaking out in India
and maybe China and Vietnam as well
traveling the airlines in the same way
as bubonic rats get around on ships
and civil wars raging through Africa
where everybody who's anybody's a refugee
or an orphan of refugees or of AIDS
a very calm demeanour is required.
Le Devoir dit nous sommes tous am?©ricains
and Putin says humanity's maturing
but as for me I'd prefer to say that I'm
an orphan growing up knowing my mother
died of AIDS and not knowing my father at all
except that he's a solider who raped mama
while she was trying to flee a bomb attack
or we're starving and a humanitarian box
falls from the sky and lands in the danger zone,
there's enough pasta to last a week
enough penicillin to prolong a life or two
and we're crawling towards it and expecting
at any moment to be blown up by a mine
a very calm demeanour is required.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged David McFadden
Grass
Won't you take my jeans off?
I feel like I'm sixteen again-
dark fields, the coldness of grass on my ankles-
I'd forgotten what it's like with nowhere to go.
I feel like I'm sixteen again-
I can sense your discomfort-
you've forgotten what it's like with nowhere to go,
accustomed to the privacy of your bedroom.
I can sense your discomfort-
although you're here anyway, it's just you're
accustomed to the privacy of your bedroom.
You'll get over it.
Although you're here anyway, it's just your
body, your mind's over there beside the fence.
You'll get over it.
Nobody's going to interrupt us-trust me.
Body?-your mind's over there beside the fence-
Focus on me now, come on-
(nobody's going to interrupt us-trust me)
I think I've had too many wines.
Focus on me now, come on-
this may be our last night together-under the stars.
I think I've had too many wines.
Am I starting to repeat myself? (it's important to know)
This may be our last night together-under the stars-
so won't you take my jeans off?
Am I starting to repeat myself? (it's important somehow)
dark fields, the coldness of grass on my ankles.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Emily Finlay
Robertson Panegyrical
for James Fagan
Out where sun-sweet grasses bat their stalks
at stumps and living trunks of silver gum
slender leaves in susurrating fall of blooded green
and grey, where piney hulks are switching
misty arms to fencing sky and cockatoos
break succour from the scratch of sappy cones
before shrilling departure, whump of wings
and flash of jewelly comb, where jumping jodies
teem cyrillic etchings over littered bark
and dew's unparalleled horizon softens
even raking steel that hunkers idly
by corrugated rounds of wisdom's error
roofless and raw, where treelings bend
as sails to weather's lick and all description
loosens in its scaly bed to fly
uprooted from the facing page of this
encyclopedic echo and assay, my brother
humming for the sake of things and hurling
twigs and lichen stones far into blue
as he imagines reels to catch the crash
of matter's weight in foliage and field.
You sound he says like a bloody angel.
On as cloud comes scudding from hills
toward the coast with metal salt
fizzing upon our tongues, adventure
promised in broken bough and ragged sheer
of wire, riffing on every sighted rook
and keeping step for step to contours learned
by rote or road, wheeling drift of flies
robbing focus as they hug his wake
billowing as smoke in glancing light,
on to cross alchemic ground between
this paddock and the next where diesel
slops from cans and technicolour pesticides
seep colloidal ruin, on as evening's rain
begins to deck the slickening posts
and polish knotted iron enfolding
nominal lines of residence, as startled sheep
retreat in jerky trot to safer quarters
only to start again with bleating stutter
and gallop, on as shadows gather
palming lumps of rock from hand to hand
never stopping neither seeking home
but circling displaced and distant,
ever close, the cool world closing in.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Kate Fagan
Single Line Poem
after Tom Raworth
Poem on a single line beginning poem on a single line
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Kate Fagan
Girls on the Avenue
Waddayamean you've never seen 'Pure Shit'?
A titles-to-credits rampage of black Melbourne wit
meets the scorers and the scored: so so so beyond bewdy
seeing it's near enough to a patriotic duty.
And here's where the girls come in: permed, waxed, douched and flossed
once the avenue's crossed
they'll be slippin' up o-kay! (There's a fortune a day
just pulling cocks!) Whilst here, in that washed and grainy way
we are just are, the story so far: I'm alive you're alive,
and if this isn't '74 this sure is '75,
the dawning of The Age of Near Enough Victimless Sin
( which is, as I've said, where the girls come in).
Don't But but but but me sport. It's obscene
you've never caught 'Pure Shit'-waddayamean?
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Alan Wearne
Bev Braune Reviews Pam Brown
text thing, by Pam Brown
Little Esther Books, 2002
My topic is local. The poems rarely leave whatever street I'm on. They are as mobile and as mutable as my daily life. (from Pam Brown's Statements on poetics) [1]
The art of looking for the text, the thing it's in and re-thinking it, is Pam Brown's forte. In reading this collection, I find myself thinking of Brown's development. She is a poet who reads, travels, observes and re-thinks her own backyard.
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged Bev Braune, Pam Brown
Bev Braune Reviews Melissa Ashley
the hospital for dolls by Melissa Ashley
Post Pressed, 2003
Melissa Ashley brings us a collection of stories considering realities, mythology and personal experience. While a veneer of the strange wraps her images, the translucence of their reality is distinctly prominent. This is a book about definition, about who defines what and how. The poems in Ashley's first volume of poetry are seriously concerned with corporeal actualities and female self-definition. Readers are called on to understand that the happenings referred to are relevant and real. We are asked to see, feel, talk-about and (perhaps) understand. She takes a Lacanian approach–comprehending experience is a slippery rhetorical matter.
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged Bev Braune, Melissa Ashley
DJ Huppatz Reviews No Other City: The Ethos Anthology of Urban Poetry
No Other City: The Ethos Anthology of Urban Poetry
Edited by Alvin Pang and Aaron Lee
Ethos Books, Singapore 2001
At Changi Airport's arrivals hall, you're greeted by the sound of birds, which is quite disconcerting at 2am. This simulated birdsong is symptomatic of the city-state's attitude to nature. For Singapore, it seems, nature is dangerous and unpredictable, better replaced with more predictable, more aesthetically pleasing technologies. Former Prime Minister Lee Kwan Yew once famously asserted that the greatest invention of the 20th century was the air conditioner. Thus it is more than just an urban condition that is constructed in Singapore, it is an aesthetic condition that incorporates all aspects of life.
Continue reading
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged Aaron Lee, Alvin Pang, anthologies, DJ Huppatz, singapore
James Stuart Reviews Robert Adamson
Inside Out: An Autobiography by Robert Adamson
Text Publishing, 2004
From his earliest involvement, Robert Adamson has been an iconic figure for contemporary Australian poetry, both as a “post-symbolist”, lyrical poet, and as an editor and publisher. His achievements are testament to this, whether one is reflecting upon his 17 odd collections of poetry, and the consequent awards, or his various engagements on ventures such as the editorship of New Poetry and the founding of Paperbark Press. He has also played a significant role, along with many others, in bringing contemporary American and other poetries to the forefront of Antipodean awareness. Perhaps what is less known is the life that made this contribution possible.
Continue reading
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged autobiography, James Stuart, robert adamson
Brentley Frazer Reviews MTC Cronin
beautiful, unfinished: parable, song, canto, poem by M.T.C Cronin
Salt Publishing, 2003
WOW! I had to read beautiful, unfinished 16 times before I had enough courage to even begin thinking about reviewing it. Cronin wields language like an ax with scented blade, its hits your brain with a squishy sounding clunk but it's so pretty you want to make out with it.
Continue reading
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged brentley frazer, M.T.C Cronin
Adam Aitken Reviews Philip Hammial
In the Year of Our Lord Slaughter's Children by Phil Hammial
Island Press Co-operative, 2004
Who is Philip Hammial? If you read Hammial's 16th book of poems, it will strike you as surprisingly biographical without sounding too auto-biographical – after all it's Philip Hammial poetry. Who is Philip Hammial, the poet? What's his world?
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged Adam Aitken, Philip Hammial
Matt Hetherington Reviews Dan Disney
Dan Disney, The Velocity of Night Falling
Hit & Miss Publications, 2003
It's reasonable to suggest that we live in somewhat Tragicomic times. A well-known satirist (whose name I forget) recently complained of being completely unable to mock the American government, since those running the country were already effectively satirising themselves by saying and doing things more absurd and laughable than anything he could come up with.
Continue reading
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged Dan Disney, Matt Hetherington
Komninos Zervos Reviews Papertiger #3
Papertiger New World Poetry #3 (CD-ROM for PC)
Paul Hardacre & BR Dionysius (eds)
papertiger media, Brisbane, 2003
The third CD-ROM of poetry has been released by Papertiger Media and yet again presents the work of many of Australia's finest contemporary poets. As well, the Editors have included an eclectic array of international contributors from Canada, Finland, the UK, the USA and Australasia. More interestingly it is the expanded use of the new digital format of this collection i.e. the CD-ROM.
Continue reading
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged brett dionysius, CD-Rom, Gig Ryan, Jason Nelson, journals, Komninos Zervos, Mez, paul hardacre
Scott Thouard Reviews Liam Guilar
I'll Howl Before You Bury Me by Liam Guilar,
Interactive Press, 2003
I'll Howl Before You Bury Me is a title that suggests an emotional reprisal. The poems in this collection protest the repressing of individual vitality in favour of congenial surrender to the beige touchstones of contemporary life.
Continue reading
Posted in BOOK REVIEWS
Tagged Liam Guilar, Scott Thouard
Lament: The Chicken Rice Hawker, Penang
And when you discover they lie
those siblings in the mother country, those parasites
who spend every hard-earned cent of your remittances
on Mao Tai and Fan Tan
and still beg for more –
when you see the opulent mansions of your cheating ancestors
and smell the simmering pots fill with your own cash and sweat
your never laying down the cleaver – well, you can imagine
on their dog's paws a single piece of jade will turn black with the years
you pay off the mortgages on their graves
and yours are dug in the slagheap of mines – well, you can imagine
the ripping of photos will commence
the forgetting of their names.
How a singular duty has led you to this –
your shop full of dragons in a year of crying tigers.
You say: 'This is my wealth, my friend, a secret duck sauce for two dollars
but when I think of our ancestors – ahh you can imagine
worse than the bloody government!
Museums are full of lies!'
The burning of their boats shall commence!
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Adam Aitken
Fin de Siecle
The people
drank each other of love
Until
The teeth lay alone
as a history of love
Wet sails fell along the spine
made the boat sleeping
rather than its
careful
or its
soft.
A curl. A bracket.
A whisper
the quiet work to soften song.
The people move and love
between the slap of waves,
Semen mixes with the sea.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged luke beesley
N
Really to dip words in erotic drive
rinse them and place them on a lovely towel
In the sunlight, the pieces then, no longer actually
erotic, sometimes sensual, stripped of subject or person
But sun washed, completely human, Cavafy's wish
for outlines, a tender letter, punctuation
Dressed in qualities then, of raspberries
and pink, of wine and other spills
Apostrophes and stops, immediate plays
delicate and full, clever and long
Elegant rest, soft scarves, poorly held
and lively in the bright world.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged luke beesley
credo
not everything comes when its supposed to,
a feeling of open-endedness
three days threat of rain, just
sick of it when it comes
he holds his head & squints, william hurt
in until the end of the world
the metal windmill rusts the field,
& hasnt turned an age
the memory of tire swing
when hannah was three fingers old,
now three plus a day
strewn presents follow suit, yellow wrapping
in the yard
do not believe anything i tell you
abt narration
we drive a drink past mulligans,
& it rains it rains it rains
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Rob McLennan
King Kong
They brace the building with steel
-lucky wings snapped from the Bay Bridge-
spray down the brick warehouse walls
with an anti-earthquake (placebo) spray.
Claim we could survive a Loma Prieta replay,
but exit before the pile drivers start to pound
and the steel supports begin to hum and torque
like King Kong's goddamn tuning fork.
Posted in 18: ROOTS
Tagged Joel Deane
Hobart, 2003, Back to the Colonial Times
1. the writer arrives from melbourne
the city changes, banned
2. a public gallery, 3pm, he farts 3 times
within the hearing of a copying student, female
3. he goes to a session & he hears this woman say
“my mood picked up when sales did”
4. he quits immediately after & wonders
can't she stop saying “sort of” every 2 adjectives?
5. he randomly switches on the holy bible, red
77.1 says: “I cried out to God with my voice”
6. he shits a 2nd time, after the lit. session
& 3 pieces of crumbed fish & chips
7. he remembers last night this man telling him
when someone eats meat he opens all the windows, wide
8. he rings his wife & her voice rings:
“I thought your plane has crashed”
9. he gets an email on his mobile
a susan wood says: call me on 0428 200 188 this minute
10. he says fuck & fuck he says again
remembering this familiar face that totally ignores his greeting
11. a great opportunity of e-w communion is lost when the white man comes to sit
next to him, no words, each smoking his own root
12. as it is always lost when the writer is once again
paired with others of color
13. chips help generate gases in his bowels
as traffic generates movement in this slow city
14. to get published in australia sometimes means
you have to wait till someone dies even though that someone may be yourself
15. so i bring him with me everywhere we go
& about a very good friend of mine he says: he is a snake
16. & he imagines that to be true
& is going to tuck it in, like his bed-sheet
17. at 47, he feels he'd gone so high
that he needs to go lower than hell
18. when you don't have a heavy history, you end up with a heavy body,
he thinks as he sips bad English tea at salamanca place
19. sitting perfectly in the sun day after noon
the man, white, looks out of a painting
20. it breaks his heart to see
so many stars fallen & darkened in a 2nd hand bookshop
21. he tells the swedish woman: you can't change anything unless
you do it by physically fighting
22. that's the no-way, better than your 4th way
like the fighting maoris, not the giving up aboriginals
23. [ ]
left blank for anyone to fill in