Fiona Wright



NO THEME V Editorial

I must admit that I ventured – no, sauntered – into this guest editing position on feet of clouds. Such a fantastic opportunity to peek behind the curtains of one of Australia’s best and most prolific poetry publications was not to be missed, I thought. In fact, it seemed almost too good to be true.

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Rob Wilson Reviews Best Australian Poems 2015

Australian poetry, and indeed poetry in Australia, always seems to be undergoing something of a personality crisis. From the bush ballad to Angry Penguins and beyond, Australians have a knack for producing poetry, and a unique language from which to create it, but it’s a cottage industry. Even ‘industry’ seems too strong a term for what Australian poetry produces, though we have (and have had) no shortage of skilled writers working at various levels of poesy and doing remarkable things.

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Review Short: Fiona Wright’s Small Acts of Disappearance: Essays on Hunger

The essay collection is a form that writers are turning to more often and no wonder, when the form offers so much potential, a potential totally realised by Fiona Wright’s Small Acts of Disappearance: Essays on Hunger. There are many things to admire in this collection, not least being the fact they defy categorisation.

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Submission to Cordite 54: NO THEME V Open!

Poetry for Cordite 54: NO THEME V is guest-edited by Fiona Wright and Omar Sakr. This issue will be a glorious miscellany – no theme, no rules, no agenda, (no pants?) – a beautiful ambiguity. We want all of the …

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Sweet Potato

My housemate was like, here’s some roasted sweet potato, that’s your treat. My colleague took my jellybeans onto her desk. She used to do rollerskating when she was little. Her Dad’s so fit. I’m trying to be good. I love …

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Review Short: Ainslee Meredith’s Pinetorch and Joel Ephraims’s Through the Forest

The two latest chapbooks in Australian Poetry’s new voices series are remarkable because they occupy two very different kinds of poetic practice to equally interesting and impressive ends. Both are playful, and push against the boundaries of form, with a crisp lyric impulse at play in Meredith’s work and an almost psychedelic sensibility animating Ephraims’s collection.

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After Mutability

Perhaps the best cells are the ones we can’t kill off, a persistence of the fittest, although mutation’s always painful. It’s two thousand and fourteen, and I know no-one who has been uninjured. It thinks in me, this shadow. I …

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Vibrations (after Fiona Wright)

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Vibrations

I just ended that one with the Hispanic boy. I’m always thinking, sexually, mentally, physically, whatever, there’s an end, and that makes it less. Just less. Even if it’s just that one of you dies. It makes it less. My …

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Neukölln

I. Three days, and I’m already craving sparkling water, each afternoon: sprüdeln, how it fizzes in the mouth. This city will not let me. I stand at the wrong end of queues and think: widerstand, resist, to stand against. This …

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Review Short: Laurie Duggan’s The Collected Blue Hills

I’m far too young to remember the Blue Hills radio serial, which ran for an incredible 27 years, or 5795 episodes. But in my mind, I’ve always aligned it somehow with the long-running serial of a different medium, A Country Practice, and the experience of watching on, for years throughout my childhood. Watching fictional relationships bloom and end and change, watching births and deaths, illnesses and weddings, floods and fires and droughts; and now that I’m older, I can still, sometimes, align parts of its fictional time to the timeline that I experienced in the world.

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Adam Ford Reviews Fiona Wright

Knuckled is the debut collection from Fiona Wright, and can I just start by saying that ‘knuckled’ is a great title for a book of poems? It’s a word that’s easy to understand, one that immediately brings images to mind (hands, fists, gnarled trees, walking-sticks) but also one that you don’t hear that often.

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Bagnier (바그니에)

When their skirts swell in the flouncing water like the thick wave of a stingray, and their hair grows weedlike on their cheeks, and their eyes are as swift as shoaled fish, that’s when I know I’m needed most. Their …

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Terrace (테라스)

for Tara A girl in coral and horn glasses is discussing the relative frequency of her massages and orgasms, and how protein shakes are made from cattle hearts, and how the sniffer dogs might find the Valium in her handbag. …

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We Took Their Zombies

Your zombie calls, and you answer it

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The scissors hissed.

The scissors hissed. it had a calming effect on deirdre, taking her back to her spool-a-day youth the children in dirty blue tunics Mrs Craft, knitted out of wool the wiry hairs pulled out long and thick Fear is in …

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After Medusa, Newtown

The scissors hissed.

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Maggie: An Apology

Through all           the little stories heard as emulsive-minded children           on rickety and wrinkled knees, we soaked them in           but never developed, stayed unlit, stayed negative; and Maggie, ghosting darkly           on the edge of my inheritance. The vibrating shadowness through hazy …

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