Andy Kissane

First Reading

We begin rehearsals in a freezing warehouse that was once a factory reverberating with the hum and clanking of shuttle looms and the numbing routine of days that chilled down into the soul, that accumulated a tally of impoverished hours …

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Kent State University—the Photograph

I am still half asleep when I stumble towards the fridge, take two oranges out of the crisper and find the sharp knife. I slice them in half, then press the skin down on the green glass dome, watching the …

Posted in 93: PEACH | Tagged

Hoop Girl

As the trishaw rolls to a stop, I spy a girl standing on the footpath in Rue Catinat, near the Continental, twirling a hoop around her midriff, spinning it with enough torque to hold it up— the supple undulations of …

Posted in 89: DOMESTIC | Tagged

Johnno and the Seagulls

is not the name of a boy band, though it could be, I think, and then how it’s so easy to lay the blame at the feet of others. But if you hold the brush, then you’re responsible for how …

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The Book of Screams

Each day in hospital I wake to a reading from The Book of Screams. It comes, apparently, from the bathroom situated two-thirds of the way along the hall. No one talks while the screams linger. I pass the time by …

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Riding the Rotor with No End in Sight

You can’t even make time to kick a football with your own son, my wife says one night, when my boy is already asleep. I drop him at Before School Care each morning & tell him to have a good …

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Review Short: Andy Kissane’s Radiance

In ‘Percy Shelley’s Heart’, Kissane writes with gusto and surreal humour. But he is equally at home portraying domestic intimacies within the poet’s own relationship (‘Sea of Tranquillity’), or hardship and joy as a child plays soccer with his friends following a day scrounging a living in Phnom Penh’s garbage tip (‘On Smoky Mountain’).

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Kuburan Suamiku | My Husband’s Grave

Kuburan Suamiku Aku merobek widuri kapas dari rumput di samping kuburanmu. mungkin kau injak hamparan rumput itu menjelang kepergianmu yang terakhir, menarik duri dari celanamu, mengagumi bunga ungu menawan. Alangkah jauh kau berjalan, lewat tumpukan jerami terbakar dan rumah-rumah kosong, …

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Stephen Lawrence Reviews Andy Kissane and Alan Gould

Even in the earliest era of proto-literature, The Epic of Gilgamesh sought to represent human voice, its intonations and social communications. Yet the clearest sign of a versatile writer is the extent to which he or she can dislocate the voice, free it up, loosen it into multiplicity. And the more experienced the writer, the more likely they are to catch on to this.

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Paola Bilbrough Reviews Andy Kissane

Just as there are two poetic sensibilities, Every Night They Dance is in a sense two books. The poems in Part 1 are dramatic monologues with Kissane slipping easily into a range of different voices and skins: Arthur Streeton, a suffragette, a Kanak, a colonial farm girl who saves the life of an Aboriginal man, various nineteenth century workers and others. In a particularly long poem, The Ghosts of Marrickville Metro, the essence of a job is captured beautifully in the choice of language and rhythm:

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On the Highway

after Dorothea Lange The road takes your eye. Dave stands in front of me on the loose gravel, his gaze locked on the bitumen, following the curve past the last tree to the haze of hills in the distance. His …

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