hoaxed (2009)

(Seven #17)

Couldn't return her
gaze with a straight
phrase. Got hoaxed. Casualties
of noise. Performed upon. Your
chauffeured defiance / closet
hetero- &
other violations.

Wordsalad 17/9/09

The latest Wordsalad podcast features poetry and spoken word from Alex Hamburger, Andrea Gibson, Aaminah Hernandez, Corbet Dean, Janet Kuypers, Joan Retallack, Jorie Graham, Maria Fama, Naomi Shihab, Pierre Joris, Richard Huelsenbeck, Sekou (tha misfit), Stu Hatton and Wyndham Lewis. All interspersed with music from Morton Feldman.

Thanks to Paul Baker for putting together another inspiring show, and to Chris Andrews for helping out with the recording of 'faulty'.

Wrap-up of Overload (and the rest)

What a festival that was! Wish I could've caught more of it, but what I did catch was inspiring. My faith in the Melbourne poetry and spoken word scene has been renewed.

First up there was the launch at the Fitzroy Town Hall. Myron Lysenko MCed and read excerpts from Blake and Auden to get our minds in the frame. Or out of the frame - isn't that what poetry's about? Great selections, Myron! Mayor of Yarra Amanda Stone (who was my Year 8 English teacher!) gave a fitting speech. Jennifer Harrison gave the perfect tribute to the late, great and dearly missed Dorothy Porter. Then the Heart Chamber (Matt Hetherington, Lia Hills, Tom Joyce, Michelle Leber and Marian Spires) performed love poetry which ranged from the flippant to the full-flight ecstatic. It was almost like seeing a group of poet-friends performing as if they were the only ones in the room: it seemed they were freely bouncing poems/fragments off one another. The segues were natural/unexpected rather than contrived. Cool idea... didn't see anything else quite like it for the rest of the festival. Unfortunately I couldn't stick around for the infamous pub crawl (thereby bringing infamy upon myself!).

On Saturday the 5th I went along to the (non-Overload-related) Frame Lines party at Loop. Was great to see photography/artwork from the magazine up on the projector screen, and to meet the staff and artists involved. I read 'chapel st'. Thanks to Sarah and Jeremy for opening up the stage.

Then there was Tripping the Light Ekphrastic at Glitch on Tuesday the 8th. What can I say... great gig, great poets, great performances, great crowd, great souvenir chapbooks (thanks Fee!). As promised, I read 'Sharps' by Nathan Moore and 'Suite' by Dana Guthrie Martin, along with my remixes of those poems: 'Sharps' (Warding Remix) and 'Suite' (Sour Remix). Thanks to everyone who came along. It was an honour to share the stage with Anna Fern, Ahmed Hashim, Fee Sievers, Maurice McNamara and Kristin Henry. All the poets blew me away on the night, and everyone I spoke to said they really enjoyed the performances and concept. Something I should've mentioned earlier is the pre-gig interview I did for the Overland blog. Thanks to Maxine Clarke for organising that.

The following Thursday saw the launch of the first edition of [untitled] at Watsonia library. Kalinda Ashton gave a fantastic launch speech, reminding everyone of the importance of magazines and journals that publish stories and poems by new and emerging writers. Then we were treated to readings by some of the featured writers (I gave a reading of 'hands/office'). Thanks and congrats to Blaise, Les and the rest of the [untitled] crew. A well-attended and memorable launch, for sure. All bodes well for the future of this publication.

On Saturday night I went along to Poetry in Motion at ACMI Studio. David Rozetsky's short films based on poems by Elizabeth Campbell, Philip Salom and Luis Gonzalez Serrano were alluring examples of videopoetry, marrying the short film aesthetic with poem-as-voiceover and music. There was also a series of video poems curated by Sydney's Wordjammin' collective, which were more experimental/avant-garde, in some cases unashamedly lo-fi, but all fascinating in their own way. Sjaak de Jong curated a brilliant selection of vispo and audio-visual pieces from Australia and around the world, including the likes of Warren Burt, Eddy Burger and Richard Tipping. All things considered, with the possible exception of the Surprise Showcase (see below), Poetry in Motion was probably my favourite part of the festival - because it pointed to the future. It promised to be 'a truly innovative session', and for me it definitely delivered.

I stuck around for the Skype Slam, which has been discussed at length on the Overland blog. Despite the technical hitches, it was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed all the performances. Although maybe I would've been more disappointed if I'd just come along for the slam and hadn't already been blown away by Poetry in Motion? Still, I figure the Skype Slam concept was a risk worth taking.

Sunday night's Surprise Showcase at Dante's closed the festival in style, with some captivating performances. Josephine Rowe, Maxine Clarke, Lewis Scott and Felix Nobis were magical. Congrats to all the award winners, who were definitely deserving - especially Michael Reynolds. Again it was great to see such a large, up-for-it crowd... mainly made up of poets, but this was a night for the poets to celebrate what we have.

Thanks to everyone who made Overload what it was: from the festival committee and staff (James Waller, Jon Garrett, Luis Gonzalez Serrano, Sjaak de Jong, Tim Hamilton et al), to the venues, the audiences, and of course the poets.

If there's one thing I'll take from the festival it's that I should get out to at least one gig every week, because the scene is so rich, and should be supported. And because Melbourne's poets are worth hanging out with. Cheers to you guys!

Ok, now I need to lie down.

Below: Tripping the Light Ekphrastic at Glitch Bar. Group shot (L-R): Maurice McNamara, Brett Ditchfield, Kristin Henry, Fee Sievers, Ahmed Hashim, moi, Anna Fern.

Thirteen Myna Birds

My poem 'stock' is making an appearance over at Thirteen Myna Birds, brushing wingtips with poems by Walter Conley, Adam Fieled, Asmara Malik, Alishya Almeida, Dana Guthrie Martin, John Rocco, James Brush and Kyle Hemmings. Thanks to editor Juliet Cook for letting my poem join the flight formation.

'stock' will only be up there for a limited time. Thirteen Myna Birds features 13 poems at any given time, and each time a new poem is published, the oldest poem gets 'etherised'. Archives? Pffft.

* Wrap-up of Overload and other gigs coming soon...

ends (2009)

low on content / snack
on puzzles

27 yrs on a food-
free diet

later found munching on
a chocolate Buddha

graffiti on the cistern
said religion should be flushed

gods do demand a great deal

not down with what
has so far been said /
interjection anxiety

fielding questions from
night / emptying its emptiness

TV left ghosting
as background buffer

cashew overdose / more
football than ever before

‘keep to the news’ –

earnings territorialise / mind
gets operated

knowing who
to know

(your score)

5 years of thoughs

As my wife Monica (aka the human calendar) kindly pointed out, today marks the 5th anniversary of this blog.

To mark the occasion, I've dug deep into the vaults and selected a poem from each year of the blog's existence. Not necessarily my favourites, but pieces which I thought deserved a second look for whatever reason.

Year 1: the great singing voices of the dead
(I don't write 'em like this any more!)

Year 2: Portrait of Ledong Qui
(I still see Ledong at poetry gigs occasionally - hopefully I'll see you at Overload, Ledong!)

Year 3: digitalia
(Think I can see a family resemblance with more recent experiments in this one.)

Year 4: rain
(Simplicity?)

Year 5: stoppages
(Sentences on a theme?)

Thanks to you, the readers of the blog, for your feedback and encouragement. I wonder what this blog, my (writing) life, and the world will look like 5 years from now... Any predictions?

Cheers,
Stu

reproduction infinitum (2009)

though who uses anything
for its intended purpose?

a poem may be fluked?

graffiti on t-shirt / speed
of its questions

‘i like this intrusion’

(quips the milquetoast / lost
in customer service country)

‘killing with kindness’: the phrase
becomes a regular

those still bossing bones
the old way

beneath mesh
of q & a, detail / i.d. burial

how to ‘decouple’ mind, shut
off audio / dissolve?

think a shut eye = sleep?

detector vans roam
artificial nighttime

&/or wrappers rustle
in abandoned cinema

Overload in the area!

The start of Overload is only a week away. The festival proper kicks off on Friday the 4th of September, and runs through to Sunday the 13th.

To celebrate the highpoint of the Melbourne poetry calendar, short poems will be scrolling across the text tickers of the west-facing wall at Fed Square (pictured) for the duration of the festival.

My poem 'free of the fear of freedom' will be one of the poems featured on the wall. Check them out if you're in the city during the festival.

Also, the Overland blog will be devoted to all things Overload and poetry-related during the festival - so have a read and don't be afraid to chime in with a comment.

positive poem (2009)

up

lit, possible

‘outcomes-based’ (?!)

(largely) undistracted

spring shaping
(to be scintillant)

nothing to delete

recurring poem #8

I heard a reading of this poem the other day, and thought I should post it here, considering it also ties in the with the ekphrasis theme at Overload. It never fails to send shivers.

John Keats : 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' (1820)

Thou still unravished bride of quietness!
_Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
_A flow'ry tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
_Of deities or mortals, or of both,
__In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
_What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
__What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
_Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,
_Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
_Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
__Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
_Though winning near the goal -yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
__For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
_Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
_For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
_For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,
__For ever panting and for ever young;
_All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,
__A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
_To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
_And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
_Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
__Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
_And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
__Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
_Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
_Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold pastoral!
_When old age shall this generation waste,
__Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
_Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou sayst,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," -that is all
__Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.


Below: Tracing of an engraving of the Sosibios vase by John Keats.

gig/antics

It's happenings and gigs a-go-go for the next couple of months.

Before I get to the upcoming stuff, I want to mention how great it was to be there for the launch of Nathan Curnow's Ghost Poetry Project at the Old Melbourne Gaol just over a week ago. Loved Nathan's performances on the night (haunting stuff, seriously). I'd definitely recommend grabbing a copy of zee boke.

On Sunday the 30th of August at BMW Edge, Fed Square, the Melbourne Writers Festival plays host to the final of Poetry Idol. Tickets are still available. I'll be somewhere in the audience, having been involved in judging a couple of heats along the way, and also judging (along with Gig Ryan) two poems submitted by each of the finalists. The scores for the 'page' poems will be tallied up with results from each poet's performance on the night. Good luck to all the poets! I was going to throw in some clever punning based on the fact that Gig Ryan is yet another gig... but I think I'll leave it. The title of this post is probably enough for one day.

As I've mentioned previously, I'll be performing at Overload in Tripping the Light Ekphrastic on Tuesday the 8th of September at Glitch Bar. I'll also be getting to as many other Overload gigs as I can.

Then on Thursday the 10th of September I'll be at the launch of [untitled] magazine's debut issue at Watsonia Library. I'll be performing one of my poems, which is featured in the mag. The launch kicks off at 6:30pm.

Looking further ahead, in early October I'll be heading up to This Is Not Art (TINA) in Newcastle. I'll be involved in a panel discussion with Derek Motion, Jill Jones and Michael Farrell as part of Critical Animals, talking about the place of the experimental in contemporary Australian poetry. I've also put my hand up for a group performance of Gertrude Stein's Stanzas in Meditation. But more on TINA later. The official program will be online in the coming week.

There may be one or two other happenings coming up in the next few weeks - I'll keep you posted.

the 'it' role

"Poems begin for me somewhere in the middle of the middle (the poet is perpetually assigned the 'it' role in a kind of aesthetic monkey-in-the-middle game, trying to catch things from competing and irreconcilable interests and desires)."
- Charles Bernstein, from '12 of 20 questions' on Rob McLennan's blog.

Below: a still from Neil Plenge's video The Answer (2003), featuring Charles Bernstein.

deleted scenes (2009)

ignore what was said while high
esp. w/ regard to moneys

we half-met at the party / so
rude of me (gushy, italicised?)

<----reverse thrust (er ...) re-entry anx / sedation damn suspect eyes / the parents not so naive a total lack / while peaking ... so much nothing to notate

Avignon, July (2009)

‘Nevertheless, we’ll be gone from here before it begins.’

A city disappearing under festival posters.

That will be the memory.

I bought all my pronunciation could carry.

Le Bar Américain holding Wimbledon on an outdoor Bravia.

Table service ought to be sporadic, selective.

Show of authenticity.

Churches’ convenient distances (how many within bell-shot?).

‘Only of so much interest to non-Catholics, perhaps.’

The phrasebook covers us to the laundromat.

Tourist argues with the girl behind the desk: surely a gallery that only takes an hour should advertise as such(!)

Striding, intent on the next photo... only to gatecrash a raincoat group shot.

A grey sky needs a garden.

I don’t know a word.

recurring poem #7

Rae Armantrout : 'The Subject'

It's as if we've just been turned human
in order to learn
that the beetle we've caught
and are now devouring
is our elder brother
and that we
are a young prince.

*

I was just going to click
on "Phoebe is changed
into a mermaid
tomorrow!" when suddenly
it all changed
into the image
of a Citizen watch.

*

If each moment is in love
with its image
in the mirror of
adjacent moments

(as if matter stuttered)

then, of course, we're restless!

"What is a surface?"
we ask,

trying to change the subject.


From Rae Armantrout, 7 Poems (2004), freely available as a pdf via Beard of Bees.

first language

"It [poetry] has to become almost like a first language."

"When I listen to public discourse, it often seems to me that people don't really hear what they're saying. Poetry should cause people to think twice about the words in their mouths. Listen longer."

- two quotes from Rae Armantrout via Here Comes Everybody.

anti-establishment / graffiti (2009)

my adopted suburb
their arrogant houses
such prettified much
minding of one’s
own business here i
headphone-wrapped
autechre providing
soundtrack to distort
dulled neighbourhood
covertly spitting
cropped beats over
picket fencing music
selected to alienate
surroundings vs. self
to alienise gardening
guard-dogged securities
executive salaried or
old-monied majesties
my word how rude
as a poet codenamed
wordy to scrawl upon
such spongy scenery
with my bum graffiti

Note: Autechre for the uninitiated.

theory-of-no-theory

"... the theory-of-no-theory ... is the most rigid and confining of theories, as well as the most prevalent. In every generation the theory-of-no-theory shouts loudest in the third-rate - for whom, always, 'the way to make poems is known'."

- Donald Hall, from 'Theory x Theory' in Poetry & Ambition

scratches (2009)

Burb.
Bird’s call a greeting / warning / reminder.

*

Caged food.
E. coli.
Filed sewage.

*

Live a little less filtered?
Who has time for these experiments?

*

Crossword clue = ‘experimental’; answer = ‘tentative’.

*

Automatic door won’t acknowledge.
As if you don’t have a million things to steer.

*

Mouthing around for endearment, closure.

*

No recipient.

*

Scratch eczema till bleeding.
As if narrative were inevitable.

*

Monkish nest.
Fallen into the hands of Buddhists.
‘Bit too life-affirming for me.’

*

No audience for preachers here.

*

Step foot in these political premises.
Dogshit.

*

Public imagery.

*

Lowlife.
Shy collectors.
Sniped upskirt.

*

Airbrushed avatar.

*

Reach of the difference engine.
What is the quality of the search?

*

Futures sought, posited.
Fear the flashforward.

*

Default emotion?

*

Make no attempt.
Nothing to talk to.

*

Learning how to be uncomfortable.
Suffocating new scenery.
Who doesn’t attract weirdos?

*

Easy exit.
Must go, before we become friends.

*

Chickened.

*

Do not thank the owner when leaving.

*

What benefit of hindsight?

*

Milk-fed.
32, afraid.
Tendril of half-bitten mouthflesh at the jawline.

*

‘No pukers’ (a sign).

*

Imposed structure.
Trained garden.
Need poems.

*

Of uncertain authorship.
omnium gatherum.

*

Pump omens into.

*

You may yet prove interesting.
Or not.

*

‘We are happy to inform you.’

*

Dear Repeater.
You are a collection.
Don’t worry.

*

Pill wears off.
Nothing learned once that doesn’t need learning again.

*

Once desire is overcome, writing flourishes?
Dies?


Below: Brion Gysin, 'Calligraffiti of Fire' (click image to enlarge)

otoliths 14 goes live

Check out the cover and contents...

Including work by Kirsten Kaschock, Pat Nolan, Márton Koppány, Jim Meirose, Anne Gorrick, Caleb Puckett, Peter Schwartz, Fredrick Zydek, Ed Baker, Ross Brighton, Derek Henderson, John M. Bennett, John M. Bennett & Sheila E. Murphy, Raymond Farr, Jill Chan, John Martone, Bob Heman, Philip Byron Oakes, Ric Carfagna, Eileen R. Tabios, Justin Mulrooney, Jeff Harrison, Eric Burke, K. R. Copeland & Jeff Crouch, Crane Giamo, Paula Kolek, Daniel f Bradley, Arthur Leung, Joseph Harrington, Iain Britton, Thomas Fink, Tan Lin, Kristine Marie Darling , Joel Chace, Paul Siegell, Mariana Isara, Jay Snodgrass, Bill Drennan, Jill Jones, Stu Hatton, Nicholas Michael Ravnikar, Mara Patricia Hernandez, Felino Soriano, Matt Hetherington, Marcia Arrieta, Charles Freeland, Vernon Frazer, Grzegorz Wróblewski, Julian Jason Haladyn, Martin Edmond, harry k stammer, Reed Altemus, Randall Brock, Anny Ballardini, sean burn, A. Scott Britton, David-Baptiste Chirot, Joan Harvey, Mary Ellen Derwis, Bobbi Lurie, John Moore Williams, Sarah Ahmad, Scott Metz, Theodoros Chiotis, & Sheila E. Murphy.

That's a great list of names, in my humble opinion. I'm very happy to have four poems in the mix. Thanks once again to Mark Young for accommodating some of my less well-behaved efforts...

opportunities to be jarred

"One of the things I like to do when I have a space of time is sit with a stack of books, a notebook and a computer and see what happens. I'll read for a bit in one book, stop and reflect. Maybe make a note, maybe not, then continue through the stack.

"The current stack includes William T. Vollmann's Riding Toward Everywhere, On Touching--Jean-Luc Nancy by Jacques Derrida, Listening by Jean-Luc Nancy, and James Davidson's The Greeks and Greek Love.

"It's a method that sometimes makes for interesting connections that might not be made otherwise. I often read for vocabulary as much as anything else (as a poet I mean). I'm not looking to steal. I'm looking for opportunities to be jarred into consciousness of something I didn't know I was looking for."

- Tom Beckett, from a recent post on Slim Windows

homespun (2009)

takes shape
________________________apartment split /
rolls right off our
________________________zoned by mood


*


daily digest
________________________laptop breakfast
newsfeed sweep
________________________a scan of the


*


spillages
________________________no will you shut up already
revenge of the o.j.
________________________stupide adults


*


little/no exercise
________________________glued to semi-final
needless turnovers
________________________devolves defensive


*


dodging room to room
________________________something again burning
language of, for avoidance
________________________smoking smoke detector




*


feels spliced
________________________this is only a test
about now
________________________who uses ‘unsightly’?


*


nothing wakes us like
________________________what we sit & resist
persistent tv bargain
________________________sudden leap / vol


*


to share such edges
________________________preview futures
incurable mimics
________________________migraine is mutual


*


cannot be worded
________________________sometimes sky is that big
one of those haiku moods
________________________knock front tooth / rim of glass


*


componentry flimsy
________________________weak verbs
seldom / never
________________________let anger

Overload Poetry Festival 2009

This year's Overload looks like the best yet.

Have a peruse of the program, and I'm sure if you're into poetry you'll find something (or if you're like me, many things) you have to go to.

I'm particularly looking forward to seeing Ania Walwicz perform again, and the Poetry in Motion event, which will include screenings of local and international video poetry, plus the documentary Melbourne City Poems featuring Luis Gonzalez Serrano, Elizabeth Campbell, Philip Salom, and the late Dorothy Porter.

But that's just scratching the surface...

I'll be involved in the Tripping the Light Ekphrastic event on Tuesday 8 September. This will be the final in a series of gigs based around the theme of ekphrasis. This one focuses on 'poem as response', and features Kristin Henry, Ahmed Hashim, Maurice McNamara, Anna Fern and Fee Sievers, with Brett Ditchfield as MC. I've put my hand up to perform stuff based around remixing.

So for the first time I'll be performing original and remixed pieces which came out of collaborations with Dana Guthrie Martin and Nathan Moore.

Can't wait...!

all forms of complexity

"... one of my working assumptions here - what poetry has taught me, if you like - is that the reason human beings often seem to like poetic language is because they are attracted to all forms of complexity. For many readers of poetry it is precisely its opaqueness - its resistance to easily communicable 'meanings' - that is the source of its pleasurable and memorable attraction."
- Philip Mead, from the introduction to Networked Language.

minimal (2009)

scramble 3am sunday the club
at our most intelligent
hyperchoiced feel enhancer
micro-level the sequenced
lighting sweeping floor in
petalshapes kid behind the
decks from paris no don’t
bow he’s cool laying glitch
on glitch you love this
thudder hihats snipping you are
this unique visitor back soon
re-embodied score one for ads
without products planetary
maps rolled out for the
breakdown wait the warm
silence teaser spinback then
like 18-wheeler leaden kickdrum
cuts the surface re-entry timed to

Spinning Room 14/7/09

Made my first visit to The Spinning Room last week. Tuesdays are not normally a night I'm able to head to gigs, but I made an exception to see Maxine Clarke perform. Actually this was the third time I'd seen her (first at the Unusual Work #7 launch, then at the opening night of the Emerging Writers' Festival). She didn't disappoint, with a set of poem-songs and hip-hop stylings that covered all bases: witty, edgy, sexy... It was good to chat to her afterwards, plus I picked up a copy of her chapbook original skin.

Open section was cool too. I got in on the act, reading a couple of newies: 'cafe date' and 'snow/shy'.

The size and atmosphere of the room seems perfect for poetry & performance. The fact there's no need for a mic creates an intimate vibe. Jon and Anth do a great job of running the show too, keeping everyone entertained and on their toes.

Well it took me long enough to finally make it down (I'd been meaning to for... like... years) but I'll be back!

new blog title

The title of my blog had been bugging me for a while. I'd stuck with the same title for almost 5 years.

So now I've changed it. I'm not sure I've 'settled' on the new title yet. Both 'outtakes' and 'outer' were titles I'd thought of in different contexts, and I've decided to combine the two.

What do you think?

Update 11/7/09: False alarm! I've changed it back again...

driving hours (2009)

reading dust
signatures

communication
of the road

we blur
trees

’92 mixtape,
landscape
mix

too-loud talkback vowels
when we tire
of music

engine drone
hazes stale
exchange

we stop
to wake

truckstop litter
overflow

reminded by
the occasional
bird

*

driving out
of night

everything vibrates,
the stars

even through
the petrol
stop

no stills

motel mattress
tremors

remember
how to sleep?

air-con
insomnia

highway
still straining
south

flashing down
to the border

who is ever still? (2009)

crashed for couple
of months couldn’t
wear your purple shoes

daylight was as
a trap cold
shoulder offered

‘no one repeat
no one is watching’
‘pull plug’ ‘jack out’

did not travel
beyond forehead / for-
wardmost tip of nose

inhabited tight turn-
ing circle front
indicators inoperable

while languishing
pronounless even
quit talking in

metaphors a la
rudd much to the
nation’s relief (?)

once it becomes
clearer they don’t
dismiss you as

natural disaster
breathing improves
they even line you

up for things you
never thought you’d
do how nice though

at the restaurant
there’s nothing
you can eat &

so why bother
with principle why
risk the alien move

better to watch
others fail choke
on life so lifelike

many untouched
by history a real-
ity too far for

hopelessly punctual
lay-philosophical
skim ‘lit-i-ture’

like milk while
trees turn off
into winter have

a seed tattooed
on your hand
to remind you

to be mindful
not a backdrop
slow to update

in no state
to improvise
or soft return

disappearer of
dodgy dissolves
lobbing spoilers

toppling that glass-
half-full persona
of the worst kind

now too known
there checkout boy’s
recognition smile

compelled to shop
elsewhere we are
living in each other

you’re undetonated
huh? nothing
stays forbidden?

‘no one repeat
no one is watching’
unless they must the

board set for chess its
once-contested centre
harbours lit candle &

we are very
influenced
so edited out

where’s the healthy
snack we can
unite around?

camberwell (2009)

trained it to camberwell same journey looped over years & years until landscape no longer unzips / late model hunter-gatherer’s tatty green bags lugging foodstuffs from supermarket a muchness of foot traffic kerb-trade all this is just hairdressing / trees bow to the powerlines as they should to avert skyshow this auspicious horizon evening city advertises itself blue white red

*

arrive safely home spoilers evaded in time to catch leftover epiphanies the new set top box’s signal sometimes shy of colour / ensconced in a comfort suburb pushing boundaries like bending spoons on late-night special / m.j.’s death gets uri geller back into primetime like broadcasts are mere real estate don’t forget it camberwell boy such sagacity can seed a career

snow/shy (2009)

she wants to get off xanax / gets
prescribed valium / to soften the tiles

black snow / work-shy

she asks something like ‘how many days
longer / must this night go on?’

mattness / queasy ride

‘don’t worry something / will come’ (i
actually said / such crap?)

black snow / work-shy

our phone pact / to stay interested
both left waiting / to deserve


Note: 'for how many days longer must this night go on' = Walter Billeter

café date (2009)

coffee kicks

your date
talks your arm off

you yet another
imitation audience

such expertise in
appearing unconfused

even when your attention swings
to the drizzle of adjectives
out on the street

& how do you like
these café clientele

glazed cakes &
tarts under glass

sincere, unimpressed looks
that say, “I hope
you are not the future”

don't they realise
the number of errors
can only inflate?

you drop a twenty
on the table,
slip out alone

Counterexample Poetics

One of my poems, 'unfinished liquid', has found a home at Counterexample Poetics.

Thanks to Felino Soriano for playing host!

There's some great work on the site if you take the time to have a read.

Retreat (2009)

Friday afternoon
we arrive, meet
our fellow meditators,
talk for hours
about the prospect
of not talking
for the next ten days

*

every morning
the gong waking us
into 4:30am darkness

*

for the first three days
we watch the breath

*

feel the breath entering
& leaving the nostrils,
channels of breath
gently brushing
the upper lip

*

stripped of speech
& gesture
how we still keep
a polite distance,
how I am careful
not to slurp at my tea
in the dining hall

*

writing is not allowed;
‘there is no need
to take notes’

*

no reading either
except signs & notices;
a makeshift sign
on the border of the property reads
‘do not go beyond this point’

*

every day after breakfast
taking a walk around the field;
around its perimeter
the long grass has been trampled
into a narrow path;
my toes,
exposed through sandals,
sprayed with dew;
grasshoppers leaping
away from each step

*

perhaps a sleepmurmur
is all that has exited
my mouth for days –
other than a cough
or froth of toothpaste

*

three times a day
a ‘sitting of determination’:
to stay still
for an hour,
observing the pain
in my shoulders and back
as it arises

*

towards the end
of each arduous hour
the coughing starts up
amongst the men
meditating around me
(this being their subtle way
of expressing discomfort)

*

remembered songs drop by,
wash uninvited through
the meditating mind

*

what is that sound?
two percussive blocks
knocked together
or a restless frog
in the dawn?

*

4:30am
New Year’s Day:
close to forty degrees;
moths, mosquitoes & others
drunken in the heat
party around the nightlight
outside our dorm,
& the thought arrives:
any other year,
I’d be joining them

*

some afternoons
it must be 45 degrees
in the meditation hall;
I leave a pool of sweat
on the mat

*

I break my vow of silence
to inform the ‘male manager’
that the first toilet on the left
has a blockage

*

men & women are segregated,
have separate facilities,
though we all meditate
in the same hall –
men on the left,
women on the right

*

everyone is asked to dress ‘modestly’
to minimise distractions

*

meditating in the hall
at dusk,
intermittent mooing
of a distant cow

*

a spider on the door
of our dorm room...
is it? – yes, it is
on the inside of the glass

*

without communication
it's difficult
to come to an agreement
about whether the dorm door
should be open or closed
during sleeping hours

*

on white porcelain sinks
in the male washroom,
mosquitoes & beetles:
a growing collection of corpses

*

anicca:
everything arises,
passes away


Note: This poem is based on my experiences during a ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat in December/January 2007-08.

Recurring Poem #6

C.P. Cavafy : 'Dangerous Thoughts'

Said Myrtias (a Syrian student
in Alexandria during the reign
of the Emperor Konstans and the Emperor Konstantios;
in part a heathen, in part christianized):
"Strengthened by meditation and study,
I won't fear my passions like a coward;
I'll give my body to sensual pleasures,
to enjoyments I've dreamed of,
to the most audacious erotic desires,
to the lascivious impulses of my blood,
without being at all afraid, because when I wish -
and I'll have the will-power, strengthened
as I shall be by meditation and study -
when I wish, at critical moments I'll recover
my ascetic spirit as it was before. "

(Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)

Below: portrait of Cavafy by Panagiotis Gravallos

Why I am not a poet (2009)

Everyone became famous 15 minutes ago.
We are all together in one big tent.
Kittens raised in the dark will never develop normal vision.
When enough of them are wrong, they’re right.
Children taught the wrong words for everything.
Try pointing towards the undefined.
Suggestible students tend to believe they have whatever disorder they’re currently studying.
‘Beyond a certain point, complexity is fraud.’
Final week of the semester: a thinly attended, token lecture on poetry.
When bored, the monkeys would just masturbate all day.
Losing the ability to say ‘I’.
I have always been a wretched speaker.
This tapped fuelsource may not prove relocatable.
Like a philosopher, placing everything in inverted commas.
I’m not a fucking mindreader.
Laughter as the ‘false-alarm call’, revoking the need for assistance.
‘If you’re not reading this for pleasure, you’re reading it wrong.’
Dropping dead from lack of contact.
Window-glass flexed by the wind.
Palm resting on the hump of the mouse.
Going without for months.
Holding pattern.
Short course on how to say ‘No’.
Thinks you’re cute, feels he’s getting warm, looks for an entrance.
Primates will signal the location of food.
Overly-generic comforting gestures trivialise the extent of the other’s sadness.
Bullshit detector.
‘Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.’
Yay, urban-life technologies warp the psyche in unexpected ways.
The simplest phrases have their difficulties.
Such gadgets and tripwires seem the preserves of a younger man.
At one time considered entering a monastery, but was above all desirous of information.
‘The technologist produces a poem, whereas the poet trashes a machine.’
I have never been drunk in my life.
Come on you little shit, everyone’s waiting for you.
The first drawing ever produced by an ape was a drawing of the bars of its cage.
Those hoodied block-boys shouting, ‘To hell with being awake!’
No one blames them.
Sleep deprivation disinhibits.
‘Genuine public debate.’
Ferment.
Seriously, how free can the market be?
The technology ticking flawlessly.
Rampant hyper-deference.
Sub-par finishing proved the difference.
Let nothing go unreplied.
(Editing > writing.)


Note: 'Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise': Shakespeare, sonnet #106.

Below: Michael Goldberg, 'Sardines' (as immortalised in Frank O'Hara's 'Why I Am Not a Painter')

Wordsalad

The latest Wordsalad podcast features words written/spoken by Amanda Stewart, Annie Burie, Craig Hill, Elizabeth Willis, Janet Kuypers, John Ashbery, Nico Vassilakis, Olga Broumas, Rachel Zucker, Richard Martel, Robert Archambeau, Robin Chapman, and some guy called Stu Hatton. All interspersed with music by Merzbow.

Thanks to Paul Baker for another great show, and for squeezing in a couple of my poems. And special thanks to Chris Andrews for helping out with the recordings.

necessary for you

"In order for you to like something it is necessary for you to have seen and understood it a long time ago, you bunch of idiots"

- attributed to Francis Picabia / written on a sandwich board worn by André Breton at the Festival Dada in Paris, 1920.

Image: Francis Picabia, 'I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie' (1914)

videopoem #5

Tom Konyves : Sign Language

As discussed on Silliman's Blog. (I'm glad to see the likes of Silliman talking about videopoetry; I believe it has the potential to rejuvenate poetry as an artform and open up new frontiers.)

My literary space at LiteraryMinded

In the lead up to the Emerging Writers' Festival, Angela Meyer is featuring the 'literary spaces' of writers who'll be appearing at the festival on her excellent blog LiteraryMinded.

My literary space is the latest to be featured. I was asked to respond to the question 'Where do you write?' and basically mused on from there. It's an honest account.

In case you missed my earlier post, I'll be taking part in 'The Best Ways Forward' panel on Sunday 31st May, within the Melbourne Town Hall program at the festival. Looking forward to it...