And for all of you looking for a good read, head on over to kipple and check out a new poem of mine recently posted.
Here’s the link:
http://kipplepoetry.blogspot.com/2009/07/bite-graham-nunn.html
July 16, 2009
QPF Spotlight #5 – Paul Magee
I am like a child with an advent calendar at the moment, marking off the days until QLD Poetry Festival is here. So to mark this day off in fine style, here is a poem from one of the poets featuring at QPF 2009, Paul Magee.
Proem
‘There are three barriers to learning: One is misunderstood words’
the taxi driver told me in response to my job at the university.
His eyes were lightly seared steak, his grin an all-knowing menu.
I thought of the kid who’d seen licence plates as words that speak,
the fantasies that connect the cloud-filled letters on a page,
those insane writers who believe you read what they meant.
‘When your students are reading and they have to re-read, that’s
misunderstood words.’ My ‘But that’s good’ fell on the side
platter. ‘When someone doesn’t understand a word you’ve said that’s
misunderstood words.’ His brain was fried. Barriers Two and Three
seared with somewhat less intensity. During them I looked him
in the words’ mouth, thought what flesh we are in that vision of chops.
We arrived. I took my knowledge from his larder and into the
scholarly fire of the puniversity, ruler of the world by centi
metre, and another centimetre, and another millimetre of mind.
Actually that driver had a doctorate in understanding
but it’s a faculty we rarely apply to get into
in any permanent way, because only animals are so direct.
It’s just that we have verbal sex. There’ll always be
a hidden y, or an extra x, in Let x=x,
(I par-boiled) as I opened the gate and abandoned all hope
but a grain of salt.
[Reprinted from Blast: Poetry and Other Critical Writings, no.7, March 2008]
About Paul:
Paul Magee studied in Melbourne, Moscow, San Salvador and Sydney. His first book, From Here to Tierra del Fuego, was published by the University of Illinois Press in 2000. It was based on fieldwork in the far South of South America. His first volume of poetry, Cube Root of Book was published by John Leonard Press in 2006. It was shortlisted for the Innovation Award at the 2008 Adelaide Festival Awards for Literature, and highly commended in the Ann Elder and Mary Gilmore Awards. Paul is a Senior Lecturer in Poetry at the University of Canberra.
Catch Paul at QPF 2009:
Saturday August 22 – 11:45am – 12:45pm
Phosphorescence at the Edge: feat. Paul Magee, Jane Williams & Rob Morris
Saturday August 22 – 8:00pm
A Million Bright Things: featuring a short set from every bright thing on the 2009 program plus a feature set from the awesome Neil Murray
Sunday August 23 – 2:00pm – 3:00pm
Proscuitto and the Pink: feat. Paul Magee, Angela Costi & AF Harrold
Sunday August 23 – 7:00pm – 9:00pm
Just Kissed Goodbye: feat. Paul Magee, Janet Jackson, Angela Costi, Jane Williams, Neil Murray, Elizabeth Bachinsky, Geoff Goodfellow, AF Harrold, Hinemoana Baker and the QPF Committee
All sessions are held at the Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, Brunswick St. Fortitude Valley.
For full program details head to www.queenslandpoetryfestival.com
July 15, 2009
Black Stump Blues part IV – First Morning in Blackall
The clip of hoofs
on a winter morning
a cockatoo’s rasp
a dove’s cooing:
these are yearned for
in the city
as smog hangs
in snaky folds
above the children
who leave front doors
with misshapen umbrellas
and small boots kicking at stones.
July 14, 2009
QPF Spotlight #4 – Angela Costi
There is just over a month until QLD Poetry Festival hits the Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, August 21 -23. Angela Costi is one of the many featured artists at QPF 2009 and this time I shine the spotlight on her to find out about the role of spontaneity, influences and the importance of performance.
What is the role of spontaneity in your creative process?
I’d like to think that my creative process is balanced, albeit precariously, between spontaneity and a thought-inspired response. I like responding to my intuition and the spark within. Often this spark leads to igniting a need to write about a certain thing. This may turn into a passionate pursuit as I read books, rummage through the Internet, discuss with friends, take notes and then embark on the poem. This is how the poem, When Ash and Bone Speaks, came about – through a spontaneous urge to know more about the destruction of Pompeii and its people.
Sometimes the actual process of writing involves spontaneity as I find myself beginning a sequence of every day words and thoughts around a particular image, which grows into another wordscape by allowing my senses to flow and my curatorial guard to relax.
Eliot said, “Poets learn to write by being other writers for a while, and then moving onto another one.” Who are the people who have influenced you and who are you reading now?
In my earlier years as a poet, the mid 90s, there were three pivotal ‘poetry camps’ that influenced my momentum.
Firstly, there was an urge to explore poets of my heritage, which is Cypriot-Greek, so I spent days reading Sappho, Homer and trying to understand hexameter poetics. I then proceeded into Modern Greek times with George Seferis, Yannis Ritsos, Constantine Cavafy and Zoe Karelli. And then in 1996, Pi O, an Australian-based poet of Greek descent published 24 Hours, which explored the ‘third language’ as he called it – that which describes the language of migrants in Australia. Reading this pioneering book and hearing Pi O read from it confirmed my direction with those poems of mine that were drawn from my cultural roots.
Secondly, in a second-hand bookshop I bought Eight American Poets: an Anthology, edited by Joel Conarroe. This anthology introduced me to Elizabeth Bishop, James Merrill, Sylvia Plath, Allen Ginsberg, Theodore Roethke, John Berryman, Anne Sexton and Robert Lowell. I was particularly immersed with Elizabeth Bishop and Anne Sexton to the extent that I made it my goal to read every poem they had ever published.
Thirdly, the Melbourne poetry scene in the mid-to-late 90s had a certain loose group of established poets that were frequently reading, accomplished, inspiring and they were encouraging to emerging poets. Some of these poets were Homer Reith, Kevin Brophy, Myron Lysenko, Lauren Williams, Lyn Boughton, jeltje, Grant Caldwell, Shelton Lea, Ian McBryde and Jordi Albiston. Apart form their own work, these poets introduced me to the poetry that influenced them, including Sharon Olds and Vicki Viidikas.
I’ve just finished reading Poems of Nazim Hikmet which I relished and I am three-quarters of the way through Poet’s Choice by Edward Hirsch, which is a collection of his 130 short essays on poets that have undoubtedly had an impact on him and his poetry. They include better-known poets such as Gerard Manley Hopkins and those lesser-known gems such as Thomas James (1946-1974), Dorothea Tanning and Kate Daniels. I’m about to embark on The Goose Bath Poems by Janet Frame who is a renowned New Zealand author.
Why perform/read your poetry?
Although my poetry has its first relationship with the page it needs to roll off my tongue like second nature. I love reading poetry that reads beautifully and recites beautifully – and that’s what I strive for with my poetry – a seamless relationship with page and stage (which can be difficult to achieve).
Further, because poetry making is such an ancient practice and given that many cultures began poetry as an oral art form, there is that strong unrelenting practice of applying metre, rhythm, pace, tone… qualities that lend themselves easily to ears and listeners.
I am always interested in the thought processes and practices of writers. Would it be possible for you to share with us your process, in other words, what does Angela Costi do in preparation for writing?
Over the years I have gathered a few rituals, which enable me to enter the writing zone. Often I light a candle. (I grew up in a traditional Greek Orthodox household, where lighting candles was commonplace.) A candle’s flame possibly evokes a sense of company and camaraderie on the journey. I like a quiet place, like an empty house or a library that only allows whispering but then I have used certain music to evoke a mood or a tone of voice. (The music is often without voice or if voice is used it is more like an instrument.) Sometimes I read poetry or I read my notes or I close my eyes to conjure a visual trigger point. From my travels to many parts of the world, I have gathered a large book of postcards and images, which I use to stimulate my imagination.
Finally, where are you looking when you write?
When I am writing at a deeper, unconscious level, I actually see the images, people, space… I am writing about. In a sense, there is no distinction between me and the world I am creating on the page – my eyes are focused inward and so I do not notice that the kettle has boiled, the phone is ringing, the kids have arrived home, and that I am cold.
Other times, I am very much aware of the letter and word patterns I am creating. I like to see the precision of enjambment, the effect of six or four lines to a stanza, the way one word looks as distinct from another.
And sometimes, I look up and notice the flame is still going strong and I return to my words.
About Angela:
Angela Costi is the author of three collections of poetry: Dinted Halos, Prayers for the Wicked and Honey and Salt. Her poems have been widely published, broadcast and produced, including in the US, UK, Greece and across Australia. In 1993 she received a travel award by the National Languages and Literacy Board of Australia to study and undertake an Ancient Greek Drama program in Greece. Since 1993, she has performed her poetry locally, nationally and internationally, including the Melbourne International Arts Festival 1999 and 2005. The Relocated arts project, for which she was the commissioned writer, received the award for innovation and excellence in community, 2002. Recently she returned from Japan, where she was funded by the Australia Council for the Arts and Vic Arts to work on an international collaboration involving her poetry, Japan-based Stringraphy Ensemble and an Ancient Chinese musical instrument known as the Sheng.
Poem:
When Ash and Bone Speaks
My bedroom is Pluto’s new chamber
with no after-thought nor explanation
he unleashed Death, the mauling is beyond pain,
and Pluto spares no pleas for mercy or lenience
with the ruthless pride of an Emperor, he thrust
a fountain of flame which seared throats to silence
― how quickly he changes my room
the four walls melt into something blacker than night
the ceiling cannot be trusted, with hit after hit
of shooting hot rock it heaves in panic
air is corrupt with a smell and taste of sickness
it aims calculated punches at my ribs and fists my lungs
like a gladiator about to slay a wounded cub.
How long have I been lying on this bed of embers
sizzling me softly, lulling me into its burning arms
― long enough to know my baby has turned to stone,
to know my husband lies buried somewhere beneath me,
to hear my mother, father, sisters, brother…
gasp after gasp, cough after cough, breath till no breath
their final release of the one hope to see our little one
suckle my breasts, as odes are sung to its new future
each one takes a turn to cradle, to croon a lullaby
give a promise to protect against everything wicked and bad.
Yesterday, if it was yesterday,
I had my husband’s eager ear
pressed against the full bloom of my belly
insisting he could hear our cherub pattering about
Mama placed a bouquet of sweet wine grapes,
honey figs and caramel dates on my plate
hoping fruit would ease the tender tug and pull of womb
the sun made quiet love to the water in our pool
white butterflies fluttered from flower to leaf
laughter swam easily from our mouths
as we threw a book-full of boys and girls names into the air
I caught the marble smile of Goddess Juno
whispering maternal endearments.
Now I know I was being mocked
basking in delusion, to think I could compare my content
to that of any Goddess, any Priestess, any Sibyl
I should have been aware, alert like the birds, the cats
at the slightest tremor they fled taking their knowledge
I should have looked at that fire breathing cloud and screamed
like the slave girl turning her broom into a weapon
begging then threatening her master to set her free
I should have understood why my insides were pummelled,
Baby knew, my Baby knew, Baby wanted me to say:
Yes, let’s leave!
to the question my family left to me
I became their Fortuna, their one and only chance,
Sweetheart it’s up to you, they said,
all I could think of was the swelling in my tree trunk
legs, the cramps surrounding my spine
the blubbery barge of me hobbling into the frenzy
all I could think about, was me, was only me.
Pluto wants me to feast on dread and terror
before Death takes me, but I am not hungry
I want to feel myself burn into nothing but ash
I want my bones to shrivel into chalk
I want nothing to be left of me at all,
Pluto when you pass me over to Vesuvius
do not make me drink from the River Lethe
I refuse any after-life unless it’s soaked
in the memory of what I have done.
*
Thousands of years later, my memory returns
distorted by legend, embellished by science,
trapped in fossilised moment and glory
they pick at my bones and those of my baby
pour plaster into my ashen grave, resurrect the shape
of horror as they imagine, how awful for me they cry,
tears fall at my feet, while I stare back with hollow eyes,
they bring bouquets of spring flowers freshly picked
from the fertile fields at the volcano’s base
they bring their children, their elderly parents
I hear them say: Isn’t she a beautiful specimen.
In the volcanic ash of Mount Vesuvius, in Pompeii,
the skeletal remains of a young pregnant woman
were found, specialist DNA biologists determined
she was about to give birth.
Published in Going Down Swinging No. 27 and in the Melbourne Museum’s Exhibition ‘A Day in Pompeii’ Teacher-Student Guide 2009.
Catch Angela at QPF 2009:
Saturday August 22 – 11:45am – 12:45pm
On the Lip of Philosophy: feat. Angela Costi, Angel Kosch & Sophia Nugent-Siegal
Saturday August 22 – 8:00pm
A Million Bright Things: featuring a short set from every bright thing on the 2009 program plus a feature set from the awesome Neil Murray
Sunday August 23 – 2:00pm – 3:00pm
Proscuitto and the Pink: feat. Angela Costi, AF Harrold & Paul Magee
Sunday August 23 – 7:00pm – 9:00pm
Just Kissed Goodbye: feat. Janet Jackson, Angela Costi, Jane Williams, Neil Murray, Elizabeth Bachinsky, Geoff Goodfellow, Paul Magee, AF Harrold, Hinemoana Baker and the QPF Committee
All sessions are held at the Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, Brunswick St. Fortitude Valley.
For full program details head to www.queenslandpoetryfestival.com
July 14, 2009
Buy the ticket… an interview with Ghostboy
Brisbane’s ouTsideRs collective are putting on their dancing shoes and stepping out to The Globe Theatre this Saturday night for their first 2009 show – Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride.
So I donned my raincoat and caught up with self-confessed Spoken Weird artist, Ghostboy to ask about the show, the influence of Hunter S. Thompson, Slam and abstractions… he had plenty to say.
You describe yourself as a Spoken Weird artist. Give us the low down on that.
The “low down” is an excellent day beat in Kings Cross where cheap artists can blow their horns. Most poets are into the “beats” as they wanted to do their father, yeah? Mine was too short, so I read a little Ginsberg and did myself instead.
“Spoken Weird” is a term that captures what has been described as my “righteous anger”, my need to touch people (not just with words), my sister surrealism, and my total lack of connection to the spirit or intentions of either the current spoken word or poetry “scenes” and hence those terms. I feel like an other, outside the scenes and inside the host body (poet/ex-wife David Stavanger) whose kidney I rent = alter ego is the loneliest number. The phrase comes from a wonderfully sexually charged and highly unreliable Melbourne musician Yilton Kreen, and I co-opted it as a way to feel like my artistic highway was full of the right hitchhikers and detours – you want a lift with me, you better bring a towel.
It also speaks to the irreverence I feel for (and seek from) poetry/spoken word yet rarely seem to encounter – I seek the mad joy found in the abandoned ones, the ones who just experiment with life and breathe it into the mike…very very rare, like me wearing beige or enjoying a poetry open mic.
“Spoken Weird” also best captures my work with my lovers and muses Golden Virtues: part words / part song, out front of the strangest punk kabaret musikale beast to come out of QLD since Lady Florence….this project is really starting to explode, with upcoming gigs at the Melbourne Fringe and our first aural infection underway in the studio, and is now the Virtues only focus as a band which is taking it down to new heavens (and they are so raw / sexy / talented, and open to sharing a stage or skirt with me too). www.myspace.com/ghostboywithgoldenvirtues
Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride is the first ouTsideRs gig since the monthly event wound up late last year. So what can one expect when they do buy their ticket?
The return of the wildest free form show in Australasia. Acid droppers & drop outs welcome. The first Ghostboy with Golden Virtues live show since the infamous bed breaking finale at Woodford including new tracks and strokes for all the different folks. We will be shitting on the chest of fun – my chest will be proffered to all takers with quality shit on offer. We will also be launching our first video clip for Wolfish on the night directed by Jacob Schiotz shot gonzo style in New Farm Park. James Cruickshank (The Cruel Sea) in solo Hells Angel mode – he is worth washing your hands for and not touching your joystick on a Sat night alone! Mz Hinemoana Baker is making a guest appearance (hopefully in cabaret song mode – wait & see); & the lovely Pascalle Burton debut balling her new set based on jazz, sex and her deepdeep love of scrubs. Throw in our MC Tessa Leon (back from SA for this), twin security guards Sezsu on the door and the the usual ouTsideRs surprises = including the make-up of the HS Thompson Orchestra (think then excuse yourself from the room, wash your bottom twice and smile) - and you would have to be a horny monk with a new whipping boy to miss this one.
The event will be held on Hunter S. Thompson’s birthday. How has the great man of Gonzo influenced your own work?
I am new to HS Thompson words as I can’t read, but not his spirit. However, I was once in love with a Mexican salsa dancer who took me down south to Playa de los Muertos, where we made love fortnightly and he read me Fear & Loathing through the cone of the his Bullmouth Helmet while we ate bbq’d iguana and threw the stereo into the mouth of cortez.
I will hand over to Pascalle here from ouTsideRs, as she is the most hunter hearted lady I know, and she had this to say:
Hunter S Thompson is one of those word artists that when you meet them for the first time, whole planets are opened up. He was fearless, and full of fear. He was wild and exciting. He was smart. So smart you wonder how all the politics, sport, literature, music, art and humour didn’t make him explode. He drove fast through the American Dream and didn’t mind calling out ‘Swine!’ through a megaphone at any given moment. But this was not a man who wanted to throw acidic insults at just anyone – he had an incisive sense of right and wrong and who was worth fighting for. His internal compass was rarely swayed and very often prophetic. And if he was in your corner, he knew all the hooks and punches to guarantee a knockout victory. Like all of us, his version of truth was his own. Unlike most, he had fun riffing on reality and raving lunacy and was interested in the repercussions of his rantings. Some people have a lot to say but say it weakly. Some have a way with words but not much to say. Here was a man with a desire to go fast and hard into the fire with a deep love of words at his core.
I love this: Some people have a lot to say but say it weakly. Some have a way with words but not much to say. So much is instantly revered today in poetry/spoken word – too many fucking worshippers, not enough goddesses (and devils!!!).
You are also heavily involved in the Australian Poetry Slam. I recently read that Slam has become a brand name, not an attitude anymore. The motto: I WANT TO BE A NONCONFORMIST JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. In another article, Slam founder, Marc Smith said, now there’s an audience, and people just want to write what the last guy wrote so they can get their face on TV. Well, O.K., but… this show wasn’t started to crank out that kind of thing.
Got to respond to this first - you can read lots of things about slam, as much has been written: good and bad. The fact is, get to a slam (and actually enter) and then form your own view, all views entitled. The motto of slam was never to not conform or conform (what a wank of a quote), just to entertain and invite all to participate. Slam as an attitude – no, slam is just a show not a t-shirt. It is not a form, not a style, it is not a brand – though here I agree, some see slam as a career opportunity rather than a calling. Lets just call it = slam is just a great show, using a certain format with limitations and restrictions on some poetic forms and expression, with different flavours and intention wherever you go which won’t speak to all. Poetry open mics are just a community service where poets rarely listen and celebrate the ordinary way too much but they offer a sense of belonging somewhere and word virgins get a chance to start the walk to the actual bedroom. There is nothing more to either, the general quality of the art at both can be substandard and on occasions stunning (as are lovers and takeaway Chinese) yet both are vital and needed to keep fostering new voices and putting the artform into the public and media consciousness.
The actual audience cares little for such discussions – increasingly, neither do I. And I am not just heavily involved in the APS, that is just the end result of having been at the heart & groin of slam in QLD since its real emergence as a viable and relevant form via ouTsideRs in 2005. I just got called to slam, like herpes, then had had the opportunity to work closely with my slam mentor and soul friend Marc “So What” Smith (US) – the true founder /forefather and social activist of the slam form. I have hence developed a deep respect for & understanding for both him and the initial intentions of this important form of art entertainment, particularly in its vital confrontation of traditional poetic live forms & performance and in breaking down the notion of “passive audience” and concepts of direct inclusion of all in some form of poetry. I am most proud of being one of the few Slam MCs who has never compromised his/her slam approach or philosophy regardless of the context or gig – I have pissed plenty off and lost opportunities at times for it… shit happens but my head is always high. Crazy Elf in Melbourne deserves credit here in this respect too…another true slam warrior, we have great fun MCing slams at Woodford together.
Where do you think Slam is at in Australia?
It is becoming a beast that some want to tame and sell at the market, as has happened in the USA. The Australian Poetry Slam is great in that it is a national event creating big media attention for the form and providing paid work to spoken word artists – it also (particularly in QLD) is taking slam to regional areas where there is barely even a regular writers group or open mic. However, the big prize money and size of the spotlight can also encourage a homogenised form, where the artist sets aside their natural instinct to try and strategically please or shock the crowd – better to slam off for a Culture Club LP or some tinned sardines, but the same thing can be said about most poetry journals, where form and aiming for their peers or the editor’s stamp of approval seems to ride over risk and originality. Both lead to boredom and breed familiarity, which some seem to dig as it can be comforting like warm milk and nan’s cookies but personally often the most innovative work scores badly or doesn’t make it into the big poetry mags: that’s where you will find me, yawping loudly on the edges stroking my 2nd chin!
As for QLD – I, as did Marc, believe it is one of the most vital and unique slam cultures in the world – it is not just about winning; it dosn’t promote a particular style - it is an avante garde fire forum where we make all welcome (and uncomfortable), even those that just walked in to use the toilet (best beat in Brisbane is an ouTsideRs toilet after the 3rd act – take a kranksky and a napkin, and don’t forget to wash their face).
* What is the most significant abstraction in your life?
Plagiarism. Hey, you naughty Mr Shark , you stole this from Michael McClure Personal Universe Deck – you need to credit the questions we fear sir.
(Consider this Shark’s fin slapped… an oversight in my original email G’boy, but you know this Shark wears spectacles and loves a good reference – see below for full details)
Architecture – I am hugely invested in how we are built and why the buildings collapse. Who is the writer you see when you look away from the mirror? How many times can a man come? When does an alter ego become a citizen not just a skin tenant?
* Question taken from Cinnamon Turquoise Leather: (A Personal Universe Deck), Michael McClure, Talking Poetics from Naropa Institute
And finally, is it true poetry started in your right testicle?
No, David’s right testicle. He was experiencing alot of swelling and couldn’t come for weeks. The first doctor thought he may have delusions of testicular grandeur; the second just wanted to take his gloves off and touch it. Finally, I made my way up into his singular kidney (David has a drinking problem – he hates water) and set up my first milk crate studio in 2005. Better than the last one – was stuck in the bowel of Warren Beatty, man he was full of shit. Ishtar for f&*^&sake!! That was me he was channeling in his fantastic portrayal as a hip hop politician in the 1997 film Bullworth – I can’t wait to move on from this dud root of a poet to a strong Dutch sailor or a small dog in a big kennel. Woof!
The Psychiatrist
by Ghostboy
The Psychiatrist can prescribe you pills.
The Psychiatrist can give you a script
or several pills dependent on the diagnosis.
they can give you pills to stop worrying
pills to start having an erection again
pills to stop obsessive thoughts and irrational beliefs
such as the world is going to end or the sink is dirty
like a big wet asshole.
When you leave the office
the psychiatrist starts smiling and swallows several pills
then smiles some more. it collects ties from around
the world and often dreams of showing these
to its patients but fears they will not understand
as the patients are all crazy.
The Psychiatrist can give you a title.
The Psychiatrist can give you a new name
so that when you start barking on the train
you can introduce yourself on your own terms.
when you are at its desk
it will not smile but will frown
if you say you are not happy:
if you say the pills make you feel
small it will only write more.
The Psychiatrist is a doctor.
The Psychiatrist can take your pulse
or remove your kidney should the
situation arise. More likely they will
take your money and tell you
you should be okay in 12 months
but something will always be
wrong with you.
July 13, 2009
Black Stump Blues pt. III – Arrival
Well, my feet are back in the city, but my head and heart are still firmly rooted in big sky country. Here is the first in a series of photos and poems written during my recent trip to Blackall. Please don’t be confused that this is part III… the previous two parts – Beyond and Further – were written during my residency in 2008. I must also say a big thanks to QWC for making it possible.
Arrival
I travel to Blackall.
The me who was there
a hundred years past
fervently
welcomes the me
who is on my way now.
The two of us collide
in a dazzling destruction
no words can echo.
I go blank here
I no longer exist.
For too long, I have been
a killer or a lie.
July 12, 2009
The World is a Sponge… a night with Vic Chestnutt
Last night I had the extreme pleasure of witnessing American underground legend, Vic Chestnutt playing his sparse blend of warts & all folk rock at The Troubadour. From the get go, this was always going to be something special… Vic touting that he was going to take us through his back catalogue, playing a song from each album, opening with Mr Reilly off his 1990 debut Little. With only his battered acoustic and voice, the poetry of his lyrics cut straight through…
well there’s a Mr. Reilly who swears
that in Baton Rouge Louisiana,
they don’t care about, his philosophy
he swears that any time in Baton Rouge
everything is the same
Then it was on to 1991’s West of Rome and the song Sponge with Chestnutt howling,
and when the crisis passes
when the coast is clear
I’ll be buffed down to a liquid
and the world, world, world it is a sponge
We were also treated to Supernatural (from 1993’s, Drunk), Gravity of the Situation (from 1995’s Is the Actor Happy?) and closer, Florida (West of Rome), with Vic aptly joking, that over here, you could change Florida to Gold Coast and have it ring true.
Florida, Florida, the redneck riviera
Florida, Florida, there’s no more pathetic place in America
I bantered with Vic to have him play Vesuvius, but hey, you can’t have everything. If you have never had the pleasure check out these lyrics…
Vesuvius
Trying to clip the creek to the bank with a clothes pin
Waterlogged system, rusty spring, faulty planning
Logic squeezed out like mustard at a corndog
Hypertension is not wisdom, chewing the leather straps
Trying to hold the sun still with a bobby pin
Burned fingers. excellent conductor of heat
Private fantasies are not public policy
Christian charity is a doily over my death boner
Busy work is not the Great Wall of China
Vanity bamboo hut out back behind the big house
Pretend is salve for whitey-boy guilt
Furiously slapping at the moon with a cane pole
Trying to prop up the heavens with a fresh flat pencil
Some folks are allergic to rubber
I am trying to stitch this one to all the rest of them
But the seams will split, collide and cleave
Neopolitan ice cream is never truly integrated until it’s too late
Trying to stop the bleeding with scotch tape
Platelets spoil adhesion, fire up the cauterizing iron
It’s a branding of necessity not scarification
Bliss was a pimple that I tried to pop
It erupted up and out on my countenance
Ugly eruption, Vesuvius, ugly eruption, Vesuvius
Ugly eruption, Vesuvius
Vesuvius at myself, Vesuvius at myself
For all those who saw the show (and there were not enough of them…), I am sure they are like me, smiling, dusting off the records and singing duets with Vic, loud enough for the neighbour’s to hear.
And for those who don’t have any records to sing along with, check out these four clips detailing the making of his classic 2005 album, Ghetto Bells… great stuff.
July 11, 2009
QPF Spotlight #3 – Jane Williams
This time around I shine the QPF Spotlight on Jane Williams and ask her where the words come from.
Influences
Leonard Cohen and Sylvia Plath were strong influences through my teens and into my twenties. Also Emily Dickinson and e.e cummings. Bruce Dawe has been an Australian poet I have returned to again and again over the years. At the moment the American poet Stephen Dunn keeps me company. I tend to fall in love with a particular poet’s work and carry it about with me like a secular bible or a how to manual until I’m sated. Then I turn to someone else …
The writing process
I’ve always been a note taker so carry pen and paper about most of the time, jot things down as they move me. An image, part of a conversation etc Initially stream of conscience stuff. The notes are filed away for development which happens sooner or later or not at all. My writing is largely mood driven so I’m not a very disciplined poet in that sense but fortunately I tend to be moved to write more often than not. I think my being moved to write is different from my being inspired to write, though both are equally valuable. I associate inspiration with reading the work of other poets – Look what they‘ve done! I wonder if I can do that! Being moved to write is a more direct, instinctual response to life. As for poems that ‘write themselves’ they’re the exception not the rule. These days most poems go through weeks and sometimes months of revisiting. As a result I have many many more notes then I do completed poems or even poems in progress. This may also have something to do with a challenged attention span.
Where the voice(s) comes from
Writing is among other things a compulsion for me so maybe the voice is also the impetus. I think it comes out of a longing, which is deeper some days than others.
Recurring themes
I remember the first poem I wrote in my early teens about a homeless man dying in a city street. It would have been highly derivative and cliché ridden, in short a bad poem … but in terms of a theme, many of my poems still have a broad social commentary hallmark to them so I guess it’s fair to say I have a bent in that direction. My catholic upbringing and an interest in the human experiences of our spiritual leaders and those people we see as heroes have influenced a number of poems in my first two books. A high hope that we equal more than the sum of our physical parts seems to be an underlying theme. I love the language of poetry, its musicality, wordplay and all the specifics of crafting …but meaning making and intent are also important to me.
How have my feelings about poetry, the reading and writing of, changed since I first started writing?
One of the biggest changes has been learning that this writing business is a life’s work, so not to be too impatient or hard on myself. The difference between creativity and productivity. Also discovering the drafting process is a natural progression, and not the hand of suppression I think I feared it was when I was much younger. I like to think I’m more of an eclectic reader these days but I imagine I’ll always rotate my favourites.
Poem:
The unwritten law of living
everything worth anything
must break
it is the unwritten law
of living
day
bread
vows
egg
any favored piece
of crockery or glassware
how long did you think
it would last
one quarter
of our body’s bones
are in our feet
mind your step the signs read
but feet soldier on oblivious
of all the rules worth breaking
do not fraternize …
no x-ray will show the number
of breaks a heart can outlive
such knowledge it is rumored
could kill us
About Jane:
Jane Williams is the author of three collections of poems and one of short stories. Awards for her poetry include the Anne Elder Award and the D.J. O’Hearn Memorial Fellowship. She lives in Hobart. www.janewilliams.wordpress.com
Catch Jane at QPF 2009:
Saturday August 22 – 1:30pm – 2:30pm
Phosphorescence at the Edge: feat. Jane Williams, Paul Magee and Rob Morris
Saturday August 22 – 8:00pm
A Million Bright Things: featuring a short set from every bright thing on the 2009 program plus a feature set from the awesome Neil Murray
Sunday August 23 – 12:15pm – 1:15pm
Venus Walked In: feat. Jane Williams, Zenobia Frost & Noella Janaczewska
Sunday August 23 – 7:00pm – 9:00pm
Just Kissed Goodbye: feat. Janet Jackson, Angela Costi, Jane Williams, Neil Murray, Elizabeth Bachinsky, Geoff Goodfellow, Paul Magee, AF Harrold, Hinemoana Baker and the QPF Committee
All sessions are held at the Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, Brunswick St. Fortitude Valley.
For full program details head to www.queenslandpoetryfestival.com
July 11, 2009
Everywhere you go is swirlin’
everything you say has water under it…
(The National)
This Lost Shark is back, swimming in his own waterhole and feeling charged with the beauty of the west. Stay tuned for poems and pics over the next few days… those big skys just open me up.
Have also got plenty of QPF Spotlights planned and a few other treats, so get your togs on and come for the ride.
July 5, 2009
Serve me the sky, with a big slice of lemon
(The National)
Well, this is me signing out for the next week… the great western lands call me forth with their silences and big skys, but rest assured, there will be much to report when I return.
So for now, check out these snapshots and enjoy your Sunday!
Corso, the streetfighting soul that shimmered like a Blakean diamond… let’s hope this film gets an Australian release.
An interview with Robert Lort on Word Riot
The National - Daughters of the Soho Riots
Instructions for Building Straw Hats by Yusef Komunyakaa
& finally an interview with Hinemoana Baker (who I have the pleasure of traveling west with) on The Empty Page
