luke beesley

Joan Fleming Reviews Fiona Hile and Luke Beesley

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged , ,

A Hat

I had been walking for 10-15 mins without a hat. Inside the hat I was able and was able. Customer accounts. Phlegm of coat rack hardened around my shoulders. Amuck this gunky, silvery circumstance, I made a decision, or it, …

Posted in 83: MATHEMATICS | Tagged

Reunion Song

Every time she saw herself in the mirror, I remember, she pushed her chin forwards so as to stretch the skin of her neck. The crushed tram ticket in her throat produced the crumpled husky sound, itself. She had seen …

Posted in 57.0: CONFESSION | Tagged

Weather and Cinnamon: Late Changes in Major Poems by Barbara Guest

I grew up in Brisbane where the sticky weather of a summer day resembles something like a bell curve. Predictably cool in the early morning but the sun rapidly burns this away so that by 9am it’s already quite hot.

Posted in ESSAYS | Tagged ,

The New Reality in Australian Poetry

The generation of Murray is not my generation. The generation of Adamson is not my generation either. Nor is it Tranter or Kinsella.

Posted in ESSAYS | Tagged , , , , , ,

Review Short: Luke Beesley’s Jam Sticky Vision

Luke Beesley’s long-term preoccupations with film, visual art, writing and literature, return to the fore in Jam Sticky Vision, with the poet now expanding the scope of his work to include 90’s alt-rock bands, like Silver Jews and Pavement. With allusions to filmmaker David Lynch and lo-fi rock musician Bill Callahan couched unselfconsciously beside poems about James Joyce or Henri Matisse, Beesley’s poems may seem to be drawn from something of an eclectic palette. What links the poems nicely together, though, is a close examination of the here and now. In the epigraph from John Dos Passos’s essay ‘The Writer as Technician’ (1935) this idea is more precisely expressed as ‘a time of confusion and rapid change like the present, when terms are continually turning inside out and the names of things hardly keep their meaning from day to day’.

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged ,

Luke Beesley Reviews Christopher Kelen

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged ,

Review Short: Luke Beesley’s New Works on Paper

New Works on PaperI’ve been meaning to write this review for a year – in fact, there’s a wine stain on my copy and I can pinpoint the exact date that I first put it on my to-do list (i.e. engaged in other work → frustration → tipped glass). Despite all of my sideways swerving, a year is a good amount of time to let Beesley’s recurring bees swirl around the head; a year helps one to figure out their tune. Or, as the poet writes, ‘It’s not about bees. There are no bees.’ Have I tipped the wine glass again?

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged ,

Words such as Ordinary or Ordinate …

Words such as Ordinary or Ordinate to Begin and Clog/ Sieve Towards Construction Constraint after Finnegans Wake Prop boundary portal node enfant incorrigible cohort slather porous nascent inordinate slouch for uncoordinated haberdashery treacle irrelevance. Pulchritudinous lovers mock fuck on soldier …

Posted in 48.0: CONSTRAINT | Tagged

The Master

after the 2013 film by Paul Thomas Anderson Cabbages & the sea Cabbages & the sea Cabbages & the seain PT The colour of cabbages & the sea in PT & the colour of cabbages & the sea & the …

Posted in 47.0: COLLABORATION | Tagged

Unwelcome Lycra/Portrait of a Patron with a Straw, Loafer

cnr St Georges Rd & Scotchmer i. Half a metre from a calf, cycle – frightened & tanned, flexing opine occupy politics with a cracked bat – he seems to know everyone in the bakery. His argument (buttered, smoothed & …

Posted in 46.1: MELBOURNE | Tagged

Review Short: Luke Beesley’s Balance

BalanceThe poems in Luke Beesley’s Balance, like Siobhan Hodge’s work in Picking Up The Pieces, tend towards brevity (with a few exceptions). In Hodge’s case we might consider this quality in relation to fragments, where the body and the reader’s attention is cut-up. Reading Beesley, the encounter is one that is instead cut-off – that is to say that this is poetry attuned to the momentary and to the sensing body moving through the world.

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged ,