Julie Jedda Janson

Tell Me Like You Mean It 3

In curating this chapbook I’m not sure I feel closer to answering these questions: certainly they are never stagnant … But I do feel closer to poetry’s resistance to answer these questions, which does circle back to some kind of answer to my last question – we return to poetry not because we have an answer, but instead return in a process of regeneration.

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Wild as a black Darug crow She is lead on a chain. Behind a horse, arse in her face 
black tail, flies flicking
 The man shouts, his eyes on her breast. Ragged white fella dress 
Handed a tin pannikin of …

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