Philip Hammial



Prelude

Like Snow White in a heat of kink I’ve lost my most. Glad handles my mouth. Closed in a cellar situation, I’ve never had the satisfaction of cereal. When I’ve done a pray I walk away. If they so wished …

Posted in 78: CONFESSION | Tagged

Prelude

Like Snow White in a heat of kink I’ve lost my most. Glad handles my mouth. Closed in a cellar situation, I’ve never had the satisfaction of cereal. When I’ve done a pray I walk away. If they so wished …

Posted in 78: CONFESSION | Tagged

Michael Farrell Reviews Philip Hammial

Poems don’t need condescension any more than we do. If we pick up a book and the poems come to life only at a certain page, maybe it’s our brain that needed a refresh. Philip Hammial is certainly up for a refresh of everyday culture: of foodie-ness, for one, such as in the high school project scene of ‘The Float’, where food is garbage and his art teacher gives him an A; or the vegetables of death in ‘The Vehicle of Precious Little’. There are enough stories in his poetry – represented here through a selection from twenty-five collections – to replace a whole bookshelf of novels.

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Pilgrim

Too funicular for me. Those informers to whom I’m betrothed are so mountain galore that what comes after their chicken run is anyone’s guess. Not edification in the Ways & Means of Malice that’s a certainty. O clutter of Glockenspiel, …

Posted in 72: THE END | Tagged

Review Short: Philip Hammial’s Ticket to Ride

Ticket to Ride is a collection of life-moments; a certain ‘true expression’ splash in a muddy world puddle, some shocked morsel of life momentarily caught in the light. They aren’t easy moments, perhaps, but they are strangely beautiful, nonetheless.

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Review Short: Philip Hammial’s Detroit

Philip Hammial is the author of over a score of poetry collections. With his new book, Detroit, he returns to the city of his birth taking us, the reader, on his helter-skelter ride. From the first, a poem entitled ‘Mayday’, we are already travelling at break-neck speed, suddenly materialised in an alley with three unlikely characters, plus a bear and a looming summary execution. We enter and leave the poem in the thick of action and must imagine for ourselves the backstory and outcome. In twelve short lines I am already empathising with the un-named first person speaker to imagine him slipping free of the medieval fresco sky-hook descending from the heavens.

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Philip Hammial Live at the Globe

[audio:http://cordite.org.au/audio/Philip_Hammial_Prague.mp3] Philip Hammial live at the Globe Bookstore (13:29) Prague, 15 April 2009

Posted in GUNCOTTON | Tagged

Stephan Delbos: The Prague Micro Festival Poetry Series

prague_festival_poster1In our latest feature, Stephan Delbos recalls some highlights from the inaugural Prague Micro Festival Poetry Series, held in Prague and Brno between 14-18 April 2009. To accompany the words and images, Cordite presents five live recordings of readings by Australian poets Jill Jones, Philip Hammial, Michael Farrell, Pam Brown and Louis Armand at the Globe Bookstore on 15 April 2009.

Posted in ESSAYS | Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Adam Aitken Reviews Philip Hammial

Who is Philip Hammial? If you read Hammial's 16th book of poems, it will strike you as surprisingly biographical without sounding too auto-biographical – after all it's Philip Hammial poetry. Who is Philip Hammial, the poet? What's his world?

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Wedding

Philip Hammial's recently published sixteenth poetry collection, In the Year of Our Lord Slaughter's Children, was short-listed for the Kenneth Slessor Prize in 2004, as was his fourteenth collection, Bread, in 2001.

Posted in 15: GLITTER | Tagged

Arcana

As do many in navy we contrive a crux of vegetable. Get & stay lean for a cranked majority. Slam & how hard a door. Straight to majesty. Chic ribaldry moving fast. Back to front & what’s between. Grass pains …

Posted in 03: NEXT WAVE | Tagged

Bread

A slice – I’ll take it neat. I’ll take it as a treat for the brethren, a tidy morsel for their tedious mouths, who tried to tame me with a stick. Poled (the outboard motor broken down) for hours through …

Posted in 03: NEXT WAVE | Tagged

Me, Myself, No Other

It’s me, myself, no other who’s lying on this filthy mattress in this hospital corridor, cloudsick, humiliated by their procedures, by the samples that they’ve taken. &, yes, it’s me, myself, no other who has but one intention: to make …

Posted in 01: UNTHEMED | Tagged