- FREE: 20 Poets anthology
- 88: UNPRINTABLEwith J R Carpenter and B Laird (coming soon!) 87: DIFFICULTwith O Schwartz and H Isemonger(submit away!) 86: NO THEME VIIwith L Gorton 85: PHILIPPINESwith Mookie L and S Lua 84: SUBURBIAwith L Brown and N O'Reilly 83: MATHEMATICSwith Fiona Hile 82: LANDwith J Stuart and J Gibian 81: NEW CARIBBEANwith Vladimir Lucien 80: NO THEME VIwith Judith Beveridge 57.1: EKPHRASTICwith C Atherton and P Hetherington 57: CONFESSIONwith Keri Glastonbury 56: EXPLODE with Dan 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 Pam Brown 52.0: TOIL with Carol Jenkins 51.1: UMAMI with Luke Davies and Lifted Brow 51.0: TRANSTASMAN with Bonny Cassidy 50.0: NO THEME IV with John Tranter 49.1: A BRITISH / IRISH with M Hall and S Seita 49.0: OBSOLETE with Tracy Ryan 48.1: CANADA with K MacCarter and S Rhodes 48.0: CONSTRAINT with Corey Wakeling 47.0: COLLABORATION with L Armand and H Lambert 46.1: MELBOURNE with Michael Farrell 46.0: NO THEME III with Felicity Plunkett 45.0: SILENCE with Jan Owen 44.0: GONDWANALAND with Derek Motion 43.1: PUMPKIN with Kent MacCarter 43.0: MASQUE with Ann Vickery 42.0: NO THEME II with Gig Ryan 41.1: RATBAGGERY with Duncan Hose 41.0: TRANSPACIFIC with J Rowe and M Nardone 40.1: INDONESIA with Kent MacCarter 40.0: INTERLOCUTOR with Libby Hart 39.1: GIBBERBIRD with Sarah Gory 39.0: JACKPOT! with Sam Wagan Watson 38.0: SYDNEY with Astrid Lorange 37.1: NEBRASKA with Sean Whalen 37.0: NO THEME! with Alan Wearne 36.0: ELECTRONICA with Jill Jones
- Review Short: Shastra Deo’s The Agonist
- Review Short: Tracy Ryan’s The Water Bearer
- Review Short: Bulky News Press Chapbooks from Andrew Pascoe, Chris Brown and Marty Hiatt
- Review Short: Susan Hawthorn’s Dark Matters
- 12 Works by Sue Kneebone
- Introduction to NO THEME VII
- Bone Shame: Grief, Te Ao Māori and the Liminal Space where Translation Fails
- Re-imagining Place: A Psychogeographic Reading of Carmine Frascarelli’s Sydney Road Poems
- ‘Geelong checks its modernist warranty’
- John Ashbery’s Humane Abstractions
- Shattered Writing: Four Translated Valerie Mejer Caso Poems from Edinburgh Notebook
- Four Translated Laia Llobera i Serra Poems
- ‘We mirror what we see’: Holly Childs Interviews Cristine Brache
- President Donald J Trump at the Western Wall, Jerusalem 2017
- Diary Poem: Uses of Dreams
- Neutral Bay, New South Wales
- OK GOOGLE
- drawn, made.
- My Mothers, the avian …
- My Dream of Gary Snyder
- The Photographs
- How Mirror Stores Operate
- Invasion Day 2
- Should go outside more
- Letters to Accompany Four Movements for Two Pianos
In 1890, an American aeronaut named Millie Viola departs the Geelong showgrounds in a hot air balloon, in order to give an assembled crowd of onlookers a parachute jump display. Her ascension followed foiled attempts earlier in the week, but, according to the Geelong Advertiser’s archives, ‘Mademoiselle Viola’ at last ascends – to the gratification of ‘an increasingly dubious crowd’ – to around 5000 feet (1540 metres), and comes close to being swept into Corio Bay.
Eviction of the spy agency; what a bond of trust! The kids are fighting over cheese. When the golden fog appears, influenza. The last dregs of lager on a humid day. They say they adore how predictable I’ve become since …
Lisa Samuels’s introductory essay, ‘What Do We Mean When We Say Transpacific’, begins with a quotation from Pam Brown that is particularly well-chosen for this volume. Brown claims that the ‘authentic’ pertains to someone who isn’t manipulated or being alienated from their context. There’s a good deal in this book about alienation relating to identity and culture; many of the authors have had to fight to preserve authenticity.
Poet, if you’re looking for your name in this essay, jump ahead a couple of pages. There I begin talking about poets collected in this anthology. Those of you interested in a review about contemporary Australian poetry, let’s begin here.
They take some responsibility for your precipices, as much as following ought to raze the civic. Largely, however, obligation, smirking, abides. * Wanneroo drive-thru of the talking cars. It makes the terminations of diversity seem ternary, that is, complexly coded, …
It’s hard to gauge the health of this interaction because I’m grateful, because the iron fist is long gone, gabled in the California bungalow of dementia breached, lead gone, gold siphoned. I have you crystalline like childhood’s glass statuary, perfect …
In a book on comedy, philosopher Alenka Zupančič has inadvertently discovered the key to the correlation of late twentieth century Australian poet John Forbes’s mastery of cultural imitation and his deconstruction of the mechanics of national identity so often queried in his work. Zupančič, infusing Friedrich Nietzsche, Henri Bergson, Gilles Deleuze, and Jacques Lacan, in a consideration of the relations assumed to exist between the vital and the mechanical, develops a theory of the comic as the maker of a ‘miraculous fluidity’.
The generation of Murray is not my generation. The generation of Adamson is not my generation either. Nor is it Tranter or Kinsella. My generation is a new generation in Australian poetry. In this era of the ‘contemporary’, particularly as a political proposition after the end of history, it is a dangerous endeavour to suggest there is a modernist / social realist debate. And while the actors have undoubtedly changed (as has the world and its labels) we can discern two such derivative realities in the newest generation of Australian poets. These poets are working in ‘deformed realism’ and ‘sentimental radicalism’.
There is a photograph I have returned to several times. It was taken during the drive from Melbourne to Perth, at the petrol station which marks the town of Nullarbor, while Lucas was filling our tank. In it, a storm front is approaching, the sky a deep violet-blue which emphasises the red scrub of the plain and the bright yellow of a limestone road skirting round behind the buildings and out of sight, blocked by a makeshift white fence and hand-painted red ‘no entry’ sign.
It fascinates me, this image, in the same way the experience of the place did in the moment I took it.
Lingo as a last keen sanctuary for the purpose come to the circle who saw philosophy and then turned back. The coral and the woods, and the ankle blisters from biting, were better, so we went. Then of course you …
It appears that when given the license to constrain the otherwise presumably instinctual, inadvertent, unconscious, innate, putatively authentic centres of creative practice, poets still appear to liken constraint to permission to release responsibility from the personal and expediting the imaginary to the machines of the sonnet, the page, the code, the number, the constellation, the collage, the palindrome, and the aphorism. Is this a sign of a persistent binary at the heart of creative practice, or of a persistent desire to debunk the binary?
How do you hear the title to this volume of poems by Corey Wakeling? Goad Omen: two words that really slow you down as a reader, make you dwell on their unnatural pairing. Three dipthongal, molasses-slow syllables. They sound like a slip of the tongue, a conversational mishearing, or typo that should have been Good Omen perhaps.