Monthly Archives: January 2012

The Far North

Sitting at a computer screen in a Cairns hotel, heat and the sound of bats soaking into my every pore, I am feeling very privileged. The last two days have been spent talking to writers in Townsville and Cairns about some of the challenges they are facing and their vision for the future of writing in their region and beyond. There is great passion in the hearts of the many writers and groups in both areas and it is this that fills me with hope for a bright writing future. I will be mulling over my time here in the next few days and will post my thoughts on the experience early next week on the Arts QLD Blog. But for now, here’s a poem from the trip…

bats in flight
the mango tree takes
on a new shape

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In Depth

With one cup of light
left in the sky

the fisherman sits
at the edge and sinks

his line in the clarity
of water.

In that moment
he is part sky

but with depth
the mind loses

its vertebrate thoughts:
sharks eat

their young
and breathing is

an awkward conviction.
He shivers

as waves rock him 
to dream

mark the day
with small graves.

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Joyful Noise #1: Lou Barlow

My January flexi-disc arrived in the mail on Friday from Joyful Noise and it features a new track from lo-fi legend, Lou Barlow. Welcome Home is classic Lou… all longing vocal and battered acoustic sound. I feel very privileged to be able to give it a spin, as the flexi-disc series is completely sold out, making me, one of 500 lucky people to have the unique listening experience!

It’s good timing too as Lou has just announced an Australian tour with a date at the Old Museum in Brisbane… if you have never tapped into Lou in one of his many guises – Dinosaur Jr, Sebadoh, Sentridoh, Folk Implosion – then here’s a taste of some Barlow brilliance to ease you into your Sunday evening.

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Friday Night Lights Project: Week #3

In my neck of the woods, the sky was ominous and headlights were flashing off puddles. But Friday has its own light… and here’s how it shone in the eyes of Cindy Keong, Ashley Martin & this Lost Shark. It’s week #3 of the Friday Night Lights Project.

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Friday, January 27

fat & sassy
crows line the street
trouble rooftops
with points of dipping black

cluster in their groups
& begin the night talk:
agree or disagree
on a roost

the old birds often
silent, as if catching
for a moment
youth’s lean grace

pitch into exultant
flight, crazing through
the dark land
upward to the light

GN

**********

CK

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Fortune cookies are not what they could be.

There is a constant and international standard
of time and all Friday
the boy in Study Hall waited for that time
he would not have to read a book of stories specially chosen
for boys with a boy-like aversion to books
narratives and plots edging to their ends
like the speed of light
steady and already revealed
he was going to test out.

The boy in Study Hall waited
for what had to pass and for the whole
hour he was with me he brushed at
the down on his cheeks with a bookmark
repetitively like a knife not quite catching
the edge that is not there yet, only a lamb
that would give right away to the blade he
wondered if there ever was such
a soft-skinned Jesus

he covered his eyes
like Blind Man’s Bluff
the revelations kept going
until end time came to us all

and the boy with revelations went home
to stare out his window at the light
constantly diminished
constantly added into the next day.
The fortunes never say what you didn’t know already.

AM

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January Pin-Up Week #4 – Michelle Dicinoski on the art of reading

January is all but over, which means that this is the last time we will be checking in with our first Pin-Up Poet for 2012, Michelle Dicinoski. It’s been wonderful featuring Michelle’s work and I am already getting excited about our February Pin-Up. But for one last time, it’s over to Michelle!

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You are one of the featured readers at the opening of The Back Room in February. How do you approach putting together a set of poems for a reading? Readings have become increasingly important in reaching new audiences. What do you hope to create for an audience when you are behind the mic?

I try to tailor my readings to the audience, if possible. But I do have favoured poems, ones that I think are better suited than others for reading aloud. How poems sound is extremely important to me: is there a rhythm that I can connect with onstage, a rhythm that I can use to draw the audience in? This focus on rhythm and pacing began years ago as a way of managing nerves and ensuring I had enough breath. But now it’s become a crucial part of how I read, and it seems to tie in with what and how I write. I haven’t really thought about this before, but a lot of my poems are about suspended moments (a lot of poems are), or swollen moments, and in readings I am trying to step outside time and inhabit the poem in a particular way. So what I am trying to create for the audience is a heightened sense of the poem, created partly through sound and pace, through rhythm and pauses.

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Vestiges

These goose bumps are vestiges
like appendices, whale legs, the blind
eyes of salamanders—
reminders of bodies lost.
Which brings me back to you.

That night was all touch and wonder.
Your scapulae, sharp at my palms,
held shocks familiar and new.
Whoever was charged
with naming the bones
named them surely for you:
the sacred one, the little key,
the cuckoo beak, the spade.

Come back to me
in fifty thousand years and still
at the sight of your walk
something will beat in my blood
bat-winged and fierce
the pump of something ancient launching
something ancient coming home.

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The Back Room at Confit Bistro (4/9 Doggett St, Fortitude Valley) opens its doors for 2012, showcasing the work of local visual artists, physical performers, musicians and poets. With the new Sunday timeslot stretching out from 4pm – 7pm, the poetry section will now feature a short Open Mic section, so if you have a poem or two folded in your pocket, make sure you come along. Spaces for the poetry Open Mic will be limited to 10 and names will be drawn from a hat on the day.

Poetry features for the opening event are January Pin-Up girl, Michelle Dicinoski and Lee-Anne Davie. There will also be live music from The Lucky Ones (feat. Sheish Money), visual art from Olivia Spohr and Tricia Reust and the live raunch of Ms BB Le Buff. And I will be there to keep the mic warm between features with the guitar swagger of Sheish Money to drive it all along.

And to celebrate the opening, Confit Bistro are giving away a breakfast for two. For your chance to win all you have to do is click….(http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Back-Room/170067313082905?ref=tn_tnmn) ….and ‘LIKE’ The Back Room. Winners will be announced at the event.

Date: Sunday February 26
Where: Confit Bistro, 4/9 Doggett St, Fortitude Valley
When: 3pm – 7pm
Entry: Free

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Live from the Audio Vault #1

Recently I have been sorting through our sprawling CD collection, alphabetising and culling and as a result I have found a number of audio gems that I plan to feature on the blog each week. Poet, songwriter, guitar slinger, collaborator, singer and all round musical whizz, Sheish Money and I have been playing together and recording for almost a decade and many of these newly found recordings have never seen the light of day. The thing I love most about them is that they have that absolute ‘live feel’. There are snippets of conversation and laughter as we regularly surprise ourselves. It is all spontaneous, all predominantly one take. Just the two of us in a room, with Sheish then adding some bits and pieces here and there post recording. It’s a process that has brought us both a great deal of joy, so I hope that feeling is infectious.

The first track from the audio vault is a poem from my collection, Ocean Hearted:

Conversation in the Departure Lounge

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Citrus Infusion

Gabrielle Bryden is currently infusing her blog with all things citrus, posting poems and recipes from some of her favourite bloggers. My poem, Orange from Ocean Hearted was featured today, so please do click on over and have a read.

Here’s another poem to celebrate Gabe’s love of citrus!

Cuttting Open the Dawn

Days shuffle bent-backed into the
cortex. Pour another Cuervo on ice
and juice it. Slice the lemon like
a party hack. Knife the surface.
It’s good to curl your fingers
in summer around something cool.

Shot of grenadine in the bottom
of the tumbler. The seduction of sun
behind hands bled to bone. There is
silence where there should have been
something. There, where the lemon’s
sucked the tequila out of us.

 

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In the fire with A.A. Bondy

Tonight I am off to The Powerhouse to catch A.A. Bondy’s final Australian show. His music is a recent discovery for me, but a very welcome one. I was on my regular monthly trawl through the hordes of music reviews in print and online and read somewhere that Bondy’s latest album Believers, sounded as if Mogwai’s, Come On Die Young had a head on collision with Springtseen’s Nebraska on a deserted highway at midnight. From there I was hooked…

Here’s a taste of Bondy magic, Down In The Fire (Lost Sea)

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Big-Sky Writing

Last Monday I took a drive out into the big-sky country of Western QLD, stopping at Roma to speak with a dedicated group of local writers about their vision for the future of writing in our state. The discussion was rich and it was wonderful to see such a self-sufficient and supportive community. An in depth account of my travels is now live on the Arts QLD Blog, so I invite you all to click on over and have a read.

Two significant issues came up through our discussion – distribution and audience development. Digital publishing and stronger partnerships with festivals were two of the solutions discussed, but we would love to hear from you as to how you think these issues could be effectively addressed. Change only happens when we lend our voice to the discussion, so I look forward to hearing from many of you over at the AQ Blog.

And to close, here’s another poem that emerged on the drive home…

long road
the smell of the herd trembling
in the cattle train

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Friday Night Lights Project: Week #2

All week, I have been anticipating sitting down and seeing what sparks fly come Friday. Now that the lights are blown and Saturday is in full swing, it’s time to see how Ashley, Cindy and my worlds intersected… Welcome to Week #2 of the Friday Night Lights Project!

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Friday, January 20

You ask me about superheroes.
(It is dark; the dog ran out his door
to bark at a car, someone looking for
their own dog still out at this hour.)
I say they are alert to any absence;
that’s how they know to save the day.

You ask about their weakness.
(We are switching off the kitchen light;
something on the floor clinks metallically
but we cannot see it. That might make us fall.)
I say the remedy to kryptonite is distance;
it is not a permanent condition.

You ask if they have a strength potion.
(I am combing my hair; the brush crackles
electricity in me. My whitened teeth have
a considerable glow.)
I say it is made of comfort, appears as needed;
(hot shower, cashmere robe.)

AM

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CK

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Teenage boys splutter. Their familiar
poison blisters even the thick skin
of January roads. Tar steams. Young
girls purple with perfume insist
on one more drink. Eyes and lips half
open: a duet it seems? Kleenex and
condoms crumpled in the street. Flat
as day old lemonade, stars rupture.
Swigging beer and blood, they sing
out of tune. Overheating taxis lower
their sails. The scraps of us, don’t forget
these pieces. Temptation spans the city.

GN

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