It was great to catch up with Sandra Thibodeaux in Darwin last Thursday. Sandra (whom I met when she ran a fantastic poetry workshop in Adelaide as part of the Inaugural poet-in-residency for Australian Poetry) is also a very accomplished playwright ( NOT “play-writer Sandy!) Sandra’s play Whitebait was short-listed for the Brown’s Mart Theatre Award as part of the NT Literary Awards which were announced last Thursday night. Sadly she didn’t win – but I hope that her writing success continues!
I’m very pleased to have my poem An accident waiting to happen published in a new anthology The Stars like Sand: Australian Speculative Poetry (ed. Tim Jones & P. S. Cottier.)
The book’s about to be launched in both Melbourne and Canberra. Sadly I can’t make either launch but I can’t wait to read my copy!
I’m in esteemed company.
Poets include John Jenkins, David Adés, Alan Gould, John Tranter, Jan Owen, Diane Fahey, Joe Dolce, Sean Williams, Emilie Zoey Baker, Lizz Murphy, Jude Aquilina, Samuel Wagan Watson, Philip Salom, Judith Beveridge, Luke Davies, Lisa Jacobson, Peter Minter, Dorothy Porter, Michael Dransfield, Les Murray, Paul Hetherington, Peter Boyle, Tim Sinclair, Earl Livings, joanne burns, Matt Hetherington, Alex Skovron, Chris Wallace-Crabbe and Jill Jones.
Thanks to IP and especially Tim and Penelope for selecting my work for this massive undertaking.
My final effort is my shortest. For my readers who are non-Australian – you’ll have to google the title – it’s too complicated. (U.S. – we’ve never forgiven you!)
Suffice to say that Phar Lap’s a (deceased) racehorse whose body parts are distributed widely.
Canberra has a heart.
Melbourne has a hide.
But Wellington
has the skellington.
Thanks to everyone who has read and commented on my poems over the last 30 days & special thanks to the NaPoWriMo participants, many of whom have inspired my work.
Readers who aren’t Australian will have to google the title (- it’s too complicated. We’ve never forgiven you, U.S.!) Suffice to say that he was a race-horse whose body parts are now widely distributed…
Canberra has a heart.
Melbourne has a hide.
But Wellington
has the skellington.
Mystical godhead trinity of
pigs
bears
goats
Eternally
simplest polygon,
too many for company,
the smallest crowd.
we sing the clichés like a mantra. climb every mountain higher /follow your heart’s desire / and when that rainbow’s shining over you /
that’s when your dreams will all come true.
it’s the new secular catechism but when dad’s in jail and mum’s on drugs life’s too overcast for rainbows / mountains are overwhelming and it’s easier to just sit there and let the others climb in a life when options are limited you can only assert yourself by passive resistance. let the others climb. you can’t make me move. i’ll just sit here like fat buddha. let the mountain come to mohammed. you can’t make me do anything. let them reach for the stars. my life is mostly cloudy with a strong chance of rain and i can’t even see your stupid stars.