Saturday, October 10, 2015
There's a few names on the list that I don't know and some poets whose work I'm not yet well-acquainted with. That's all to the good.
There's six (only!) South Australian poets - Steve Evans, Thom Sullivan, Geoff Goodfellow, Rachael Mead, Jude Aquilina, Jill Jones - unless one of the unknown-to-me folks is also living here. Slightly surprising, given I'm aware of good stuff published in the last year by other SA poets, or at least written, going on what I heard at the Lee Marvin readings I was in town for during 2014-15. I mean pretty damn good. But editors make choices and Geoff Page, editor of this and last year's volume, has made his. From memory, the call-out, like last year's, asked for poems that were 'reader friendly' (which reader?), or something along those lines, as well high quality (which is, obviously, debatable - we debate it all the time). And not over 60 lines.
It'd be interesting to see what would happen if Black Inc ever chose a South Australian to edit rather than someone from the primarily Melbourne-Sydney axis (Geoff Page is from the ACT, I know, but that's along that axis, only a three hour drive to Sydney). Or another woman editor - there's only ever been two, Dorothy Porter and Lisa Gorton, and then, they only edited one volume each. Or someone on the much younger side. Lisa Gorton did double duty in 2013 as the youngest editor so far (I presume I am right in guessing near enough her age), as well as being female.
Simply looking at the list of poets, it has a very mainstream even conservative-leaning feel. Although, there I am (and a number of others who don't lean that way). Or have I gone soft in my old age? Heaven forfend. Certainly, my poem isn't the accepted imagey/metaphory, deep and meaningful, 'elegant' piece. But, neither is it, on the surface at least, syntactically complex. For me, indeed, it was an experiment, but that's a story for another occasion. And, of course, it is hard to know what to make of the selections until one actually reads the book, stating the obvious. So, although I'm doing a bit of a prejudge (but who ever doesn't?) and I have a niggling feeling I know what will be said by reviewers about this depending on which side of the various poetry fences they stand (that's pretty much the case for most Australian poetry book reviews anyway), I am always prepared to be surprised, by my reading of the book itself and its reception. Besides, 2016 will roll around soon enough, and who knows what surprises (or not) that will bring.
Monday, October 05, 2015
The advantage of a blog over Facebook and other insulated social media platforms is that it doesn't require a subscription to read it, and the posts are much easier to track and recover/re-read. This was a frustration I had with Facebook, though probably not the primary reason I left. Indeed, I have darted back (reactivated is the technical term, I believe) once or twice for a brief five minute foray, simply to check on something posted on x date and/or about y bit of business. No-one noticed.
In the heyday of blogging, in the early to mid-2000s, the platform was alive with poets and poetry, and certainly exchanges (who remembers web 2.0?). This included comments and responses amongst us all. Times have changed, as they obviously do. I've not had one comment, nor sign of one, since coming back to this in 2015. Nor, I admit, have I gone to other blogs and commented. I have gone to other blogs but have wondered what I would say. And a lot of the people I previously interacted with regularly seem to be doing other things, online or off-line. As I obviously was. I hope they are all thriving in whatever they are doing.
I live now in a small city where conversation is scarce if one is, effectively, an outsider (I don't count classes as conversation, they are different exchanges, valuable as exchanges, but of a different kind). Conversation happens, thankfully but rarely, and my thanks go to the few here in Adelaide who take time out to chat and discuss things of mutual interest.
Thus, I count this space as where I talk to myself, which I believe is a human and necessary thing to do, as well as somewhere to record what I have been doing and writing and/or what has interested me. I don't fool myself that it is a space for anything more than that. Also, it occurs to me that what I'm currently doing is not much different to what I was doing way back when, except that it emerges more from my own internal to-and-fro rather than a broader communal working. The one thing that may be a positive, apart from the purely archival (which is not to be dismissed), is that this blog still has a public presence, it's not an interior or private space. I don't know who visits these days, but I know there are 'visits'. Just as other bloggers don't know I visit them, though I do. This is something I am continuing to think about and is another way of saying I haven't gone completely away.
Sunday, October 04, 2015
But back to this process. Because they are tasks, things that you do to make something. My initial task was to complete the manuscript after having the initial 150 lines (or so) being chosen last year. And thanks to Whitmore Press folks for offering this ongoing opportunity to poets, and, of course, for picking my manuscript last year.
I did, in fact, have a longer manuscript idea I was working from, so I knew the field of poems I would be playing with. Mostly, though not entirely, they were a series of writings I had done during 2014, and to narrow it down, mostly during the first seven or eight months of that year. I have since included a few newer 2015 poems and reworked one or two much older poems. Overall, I was aiming at a different feeling in this book, a kind of stripped-down, more direct, at times dead-pan atmospheric. But always with something ambivalent, de-centred, or strange in the mix. It remains to be seen how that approach will be read, both of itself, in the context of my own work, and within current poetry in general.
The poems, apart from a long sequence, all fit on one page. Thus, it was at one level easy to decide what kinds of poems from this field would get into the book. It still took some time to select, order, edit and, in a couple of cases, rewrite. Every poem in the winning manuscript is there, however, pretty much as originally submitted.
The original title wasn't quite right - Breaking the Plates. Well, in a sense it is exactly right, and I liked it, still like it, but I could see how people could latch onto it as a kind of feminine domestic, ie something easy to dismiss, the usual yadda-yadda. My work's been dismissed like this in the past. The male domestic, of which Australian poetry is chock full, never gets named as such, nor receives such short shrift. So, the plates were out (they are still in the poem from which they came), and the days were in. The poems are deliberately daily, quotidian Adelaide, and the 'a' vowel sound remains, so that worked fine.
But, obviously, a manuscript is never the end of book making. Books, publishing, these are collective tasks. People are working together to get an actual thing done, made. Thus, editing, proof-reading, type and book design, cover image, front and back matter (sourcing endorsements, bio notes, etc), thinking about a launch (or two, and where, by whom, etc), all requiring the work of a few people. So, I and others are within this complex of tasks, though a fair way down the track.
I began keeping quite specific notes about this book, once I had got back to Australia at the beginning of the year; some of them are simply to do lists, but also a lot are a kind of thinking through what I thought I was doing with this book. It has been a useful process, and I may put something together from all of that once the book is out. I'm not sure why I began doing this. It may have had something to do with being out of Australia for nearly six months. It may have had something to do with the fact this book is more of a particular time and mood than my other books. It may have something to do with doubt or with simple curiosity.
There's no date yet for a launch. It will most likely be in Melbourne, in mid to later November. There's still work to do.
Friday, October 02, 2015
Speaking of Cordite, there's another recent poem of mine there as well, called In My Shifts, published as part of their (also) current TransTasman issue, edited by Bonny Cassidy. My irregular blogging past meant I hadn't noted it here until now, as I haven't noted a lot of things here over the last couple of years.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Yesterday, at Brighton Beach. One of the first continually sunny days for a while. Spring, almost. I don't really know Brighton, it's possibly only the third time in my life I've been there. Still, it's only a train journey away from home, so there I went, walking about, taking a photograph, writing a note or two:
afternoon sunlight turns silver on Holdfast Bay
clouds tack behind the hills
days are what tracksuit pants are for
another octopus pulled up onto the jetty
babies are simply babies, phones are
for taking pictures of the dog
pig face, beach reclamation, vanilla
or something more, he's yelling
instructions at the kids, 'head for the sandbank'
if you were here, or I was young in early spring
with stupid hats, dogs' bums, eternal prams
fishing tackle, without breaking like a wave
having the moment's recurrence
like a breeze through the gulf
Saturday, August 29, 2015
I used to do more readings. I've always liked doing them, especially in the company of other poets. I believe poems and poets need to be heard as well as read. Presumably because (a) I live in Adelaide not big smoke, (b) I am (ahem) not as young as I used to be, and (c) I don't hang around in gangs or coteries, I rarely get interstate gigs (even if I pony up with cash/FF for flights and can conjure accomm). OK, it is what it is.
And, in general (ie, it's not just me), the so-called writers' festivals (meaning prose writers' festivals, by and large) that seem to spring up at will across the country, have little interest in featuring poets, unless they can do double duty as a prose writer and/or are some kind of 'celebrity'. If these festivals use poets at all, they segregate them on the poets-only panel and, maybe, have a poets-only reading, as if poetry wasn't anything to do with (umm) writing, 'but, hey, yes, we did poetry'. There used to be more poetry festivals but they seem to have died away with one or two exceptions, and are either a bit of a closed shop or seem to have more of a 'performancey' focus, which is as you'd expect. So far as I'm concerned, all readings are performances and the more diversity the better, but that's not the popular view. OK, I'm non-fashionable, my problem.
Yep, it is what it is, no matter how much ye grumble. From time-to-time, various ideas have been put forward to try to get more poets out and about (funding for national reading tours, for instance), but nothing substantial has ever come of it. Writers' festival directors/curators aren't going to change their focus either, so no point in knocking on those doors. And sometimes I think they're not the best platforms for poetry (indeed, writing) anyway.
Ideally, poetry readings should be live, but in lieu of that, ie, instead of waiting for 'the gift of sound and vision' (apols to D. Bowie), is the online thing. Not ideal, but better than the proverbial poke in the eye with a limp fish. So, as it's pretty unlikely you'll ever see me (or indeed a whole bunch of us) read poems in your city or town, here's a few links below that include sound recordings of me (yes, of course) reading - some include video. Even better, on some sites there's a whole bunch of poets reading, not just yours truly - a veritable salon. One of the links is actually a recent interview I did with Nathan Hondros and Robbie Coburn as part of their Australian Poetry Podcast series, but I do read a few poems at the end. Same with the Writer's Radio, Radio Adelaide interview (Writers Radio has, indeed, been a stalwart in broadcasting writers of all kinds for a long, long time). A couple of the recordings are me experimenting with soundscape and/or soundtrack, which you can take or leave as you will. My thanks to all the site curators and engineers/recorders, professional and amateur, doing this increasingly necessary work, here and elsewhere online.
Australian Poets at PennSound
NZEPC Home & Away: Sydney readings
Red Room Company
Radio Adelaide interview
The Australia Poetry Podcast
Friday, August 28, 2015
of course, all the tribunals, modern tribes
a coast dark blue with them, somewhere
I go down to the gulf one day
join the breeze
and I don't know anyone
tide has washed in pieces of broken brick
the gulls dive for fish
if that means I don't care
though I pick up a piece
almost circular, red, mineral-specked
I could skim it
I put it in my pocket
it's still rough
there seems no point in keeping it
it's in a bowl on a low table
today is a grey day
I felt it just now
Saturday, August 15, 2015
even if it’s a lonely experience
Five poems in Journal of Poetics Research
The older poem is 'Free Hand: A Kind of Thinking'. As well as, obviously, being a kind of ars poetica, it's length and its syntactic energies are different to the other poems, especially the first three. These may, or may not, appear in print later this year. I presume you can tell they are more stripped back, obviously shorter, full of questions and even imperatives (not so much in these but in others I've been writing), less image-driven, impatient. Whether I'll continue in this vein much longer, I don't know. It's one of my current experiments.
Monday, December 23, 2013
And it is a book I am fond of. It was born of a more specific project than The Beautiful Anxiety, in fact, developed from a manuscript which was shortlisted for the 2011 Whitmore Press Manuscript Prize. To that idea I added three slightly older poems which had not found a place in a past book. It gained a few good reviews, mainly online, but seemed to pass most people by. I suspect this was due, partly, to issues of distribution. Although these days you probably won't find it in a bookshop, now it is available easily online, including from The Book Depository, at a decent price, as well as from the publisher if you live in Australia, or overseas.
Interestingly, this time around, mostly the reviewers got it, in a positive way. Ali Alizadeh had it as one of his Best of 2012 at Overland and said: "It is not only due to the freshness and intelligence of her very modern voice, but also due to her ability to produce so much consistently outstanding, original and incisive poetry, that I feel Jill Jones is one of the best poets writing in Australia today. In Jones’s oeuvre, quality and quantity are not at loggerheads; and her latest full-length volume ... is a collection of terse, evocative ruminations on contemporary life that turns linguistic conventions into malleable matter for Jones’s unique engagements with reality."
Michael Farrell commented on the speediness of some of the poems, yet ended up liking the longer ones even more. He said: "The book ends with three long poems in a section titled ‘Hang the Ash!’. These are, I think, the book’s best poems; they function at a different order from the shorter poems. … ‘Where We Live’, extracted from its original context of a collaboration with photographer Annette Willis, is the payoff of the book. Even without visual reference there is a strong sense of framing, of a focal point for the subtitles, prose and verse that make up this poem. Though I feel like I know this approach from Jones, what I think of as her geopoetic affect, the poem reads like a peak of this take: ‘Heaven, if you look up, isn’t as black as it used to be’. She even manages to do something new with ending the poem on the word ‘light’: the use of repetition makes the light meta-critical rather than faux-transcendent."
In her review in Cordite, A. Frances Johnson noted that: "Jones’ polyphonic, visual, ‘broken’ language draws fierce attention to the way language constructs meaning: life’s stages, love, death, past, future, culture, place. But there is a driving emotional core at the heart of this fine collection that anchors formalism to universal human desires for narrative and insight. The beauty is in the lack of resolution between these two impulses."
Lucy Alexander in Verity La, also remarked on the speed of the work, saying: "The poems come in fast – they swerve, they flash you with the scent of ‘Blood Bones & Diamonds’ they catch you, distracted by their songful voice and plunge you among the lanes and backstreets of the city. They turn your eyes to the graffiti on the walls and make it meaningful, then up to the ‘ghost moon bitten apple’. Jones writes better lyrics than those pretty boys with guitars strapped to their groins. But there are also poems here that move at walking pace: that grieve and grieve again for that ‘you’ that puts the poet in perspective."
As I noted, the book was pretty much ignored by mainstream print media, where I've usually had some notice, but it received two mentions in print-based literary magazines. One mention of it made it into an overview article in Westerly, thanks to Michelle Cahill, who noted: "Jill Jones's urban dystopia Ash is Here, So are Stars is rife with cops, bailiffs, the ministry, the extras, speed cameras, dud freeways, libertarians, mimics, and arsonists. Not all the poems are anarchic, but the free play and associations, the rhetoric of an anti-poetic language is more than quietly subversive. Jones writes in hieroglyphics, inventing a code that exposes the debacles and corruption of contemporary life, of the literati, where 'Each word is a tip off' and 'Each translation a form of waiting.' Irony and anger walk hand in hand with interrogative poem titles and their indicative mood: 'There were votes in airplanes & trampolines, teacake/for dolphins & yogis.' " - 'Aspects of Australian Poetry 2012', Westerly 2013.
And another longer review in Southerly, from Nicola Themistes: "Jill Jones ... demonstrates her ability as a consummate stylist in her latest verse collection, Ash is Here, So are Stars. ... There is a certain freeflowing energy to the tone of these works, but one carefully constructed and grounded in a consistent mode of linguistic and conceptual play. I am reminded of Lyn Hejinian’s poetry in Jones’s artful execution of sentence structures and the ease with which she delivers abstract phrasing ... Jones has a measured voice, gripping but subtle; a careful and experienced voice that revels in the depths and ambiguities of language, in the flux of concepts that seep through the imagery; and a voice which luxuriates in a consistent flow of rhythm and sound. Among the jewels of this collection is the long poem, “My Fugitive Votive” which, like Milton’s “Lycidas”, delineates a fertile landscape of the poet’s sense of her own art ...".
The full list is available on the Agency's website. Lot's of classic and contemporary Australian titles to consider.
As the back cover says:
The Beautiful Anxiety continually breaks across boundaries of the intimate and the global in an invigorating and unsettling mix of materialist and speculative writing on the interconnectedness of life amidst the environmental and cultural turmoil of the 21st century. The poems are in turn provocative, tender, impatient, playful, and swerve through the world, awake to its lostness as well as its ‘flesh and spark’.
As well as being a work focused on the material, it is, in an odd way, a metaphysical work. I know that one is not allowed to talk in such terms these days but I've never been one for doing what I'm supposed to do. I've also taken a chance on using the word 'beautiful' in the title, for which I also expect to be castigated by the poetry and theory police. If one has always been a maverick, one may as well continue being so. No matter. I presume readers see past all that burble and will make up their own minds about it, and, I hope, some will like it. It's been a book long in the making; a few poems were published almost a decade ago. On the other hand, a few poems were written late last year or early this year.
And some readers have made some kind comments on the book:
“This is surely a break-through book. Jill Jones has compressed her lyric awareness into an exacting and low-key brilliance: alert, astute, unsentimental, and with a linguistic intelligence so sharp in its inner and outer registers I kept asking myself: how is she doing it? There is incisive balance between the sensory and the fugitive, yet her images and figures are so crisp they feel more real than so-called reality.”—Philip Salom
“Jill Jones’ The Beautiful Anxiety, dedicated to the memory of her mother, joins elegiac witness to ‘another flow’. Her sparse, 'ruined lyrics', 'barely words', expand into 'something planetary': 'figures/atoms/curves/droplets'. Sensate poesis unfolds 'genres of dust', 'the clash of pasts'. With Jones as our guide, we search 'the ephemeral world' for a 'green name': 'awakened/again we walk in the depth/of field'. The ghosts of Voss and Messiaen appear; 'a fragment from a fragment of Sappho' brings 'possibles, rain on earth'. Dreams, signs and portents are 'not like your mother/said'. The Beautiful Anxiety dwells in the imminence of loss, its 'vast frontier' and scope. And if you think the work of mourning is done, 'Urn' replies, 'I don't know/where to put you': 'Never end, never end'. As Jones writes in 'What's Coming Next': 'All bets are off./You have to go through it'. You do, and you'll be glad you did .”—Kate Lilley
“Jill Jones’ poetry attains a Newtonian clarity by occasioning objects to collide with displaced emotion, breaking new ground through the estranging effect of coupling wonder with wryness. This book is an intense celebration of that subcutaneous disturbance often only present in the most acute poetic sensibilities.”—Brian Castro
My thanks to David Musgrave and the team at Puncher & Wattmann for taking it on and making a beautiful space for the words.
Monday, July 29, 2013
A few years living not in my home city have led to various rethinkings of place, position, worth, work. For starters.
I recently had an argument with a friend (I rarely argue with friends) about how a place like Adelaide is seen in the 'big scheme of things'. He admitted (we were talking more broadly of 'the yartz', not poetry specifically) that, well, the east coast (ie Sydney and Melbourne) are where the money and activity is and, the implication being, why fund much where not much is happening. Which is correct if you're talking purely about profit and bang for buck, ie treating the 'yartz' as a profit-generating activity. There's no bang for buck here. Not much bang anything, apart from the loud construction noise going on in my street at the moment (Adelaide has finally decided to electrify its train system - welcome to the 20th century ... oh, wait...).
All this as a way of saying that social media was one way I kept in contact with 'things' for some years since I've been here. A way of talking to people in other places, the conversation I can't have here. And, thus - am getting to the point - why this space was neglected.
But social media has its limits and this diaristic space works in other ways. So, I will tinker with the look and feel of this - not greatly but a bit. And return to some of these thoughts as I go ... as well as adding some new poem ideas and the usual potage of stuff.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
there is no here there
the night has completely cured me
or just behind closed
doors, I shudder to think
look forward to frosty trees
southern light sounds fine
I'm working something
old themes happened
will probably see me
box again, happy
maybe I mentioned it
becoming real, in the hand
glad book, be interesting.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I hadn't thought of the newer poems in those terms, exactly. And another reviewer has pointed out the 'violence' in some of my work, overall. But it's apparent that Michael has noticed a newer mode in my work, that there are things 'up with which I will not put' any longer. A new assertiveness, rather than the previous assertiveness (which is there, if you look). He says: "It's a broader, more assertive platform for Jones's brand of projective verse, and one that bodes well for a midcareer future."
Parts of the poem, 'Misinterpretations ...' certainly were written out of a frustration with some not-well-thought-through ways critics were taking with my work, that, for instance, what I've been recently writing was a form of comfortable ecopoetic with some fancy philosophic or metaphysical flourishes. Living inside and out on the planet, where you are, and writing it, isn't easy, and it involves some thinking and some emotion - gee whiz, how hard is that to divine? But I'm not interested in being obscure, amorphous, or hermetic (though when did that become a negative?) - then, language is never straight forward (and, hey, isn't that kinda PomeWritin 101?).
As an aside, it's something I've noticed a bit with some poet reviewers, that they want someone else's work to be as clear as, easy to 'get', while they themselves, in their own writing, are difficult, in the good sense. But Michael has got how I am working on a new level.
Frustrations can be good drivers, I'm learning to use the good side of that. Couple that with, mostly, the benign (or other) neglect most poets experience, and it means you can be free-er to move around language, and be bolder amongst the messiness of it all.
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
This year's editor, John Tranter, says in the foreword (one presumes): ‘What a rich, strange and diverse lot these poems turned out to be … I suspect that these baroque and potent imaginings can only have come into existence as fragments of dreams or nightmares.’
This focus from the editor indicates that this year's anthology won't just be the sameold sameold. A look at the list of contributors also indicates that the spread of poets offers more of the newer and more innovative writers on the scene, as well as a number of anthology regulars. The anthology also picks up on work that has either been published overseas or was fresh but unpublished, an organisational model that can give a sense of what is happening now in a broader, more realistic, sense. The other, now defunct, annual anthology issued by UQP for a number of years modelled itself on the US Best American series which only took poems published in journals for the year in question. This meant that the UQP book would always miss work that did not appear in Australian literary journals. In the 21st century when publishing models have changed and online international venues are often where the more interesting work is being featured plus the focus of many Australian-based poets being not so parochial, this was starting to look very old school.
Another reason I am looking forward to seeing the poems that John has chosen is that we are being flooded with conservative (ie. trying to conserve, as well as the more perjorative sense of that word), historically and generationally focused anthologies which, it seems, almost deliberately ignore the fresher and more exciting work happening now. They seem to be caught up in some kind of mid 20th century idea of canon-making which I suspect even the Americans and Brits have left behind. Apart from anything else, there are so many poets now doing many different things with language that to pretend that a couple of, in most cases, old blokes, have some magical insight into what is 'best' in all of this, is faintly ludicrous.
I've said a bit more about this as part of a recent interview Mike Brennan published on the Poetry International website. And I speak as an anthologist. All an anthologist or editor can or need do is provide a focus, rather than make exclusive or hierarchical claims, which only sets you up for failure. I realise in the Black Inc case, and UQP's before, that the 'best' thing is a marketing strategy. It is an unfortunate one, but JT's apparent focus on (to quote the publicity blurb): "the vigorous, varied and interesting poems of the last year ... the phantasmagorical ... that range from the playful to the melancholy by way of exuberance and satire" certainly makes the 2011 annual seem like a poetry book worth reading.
Notwithstanding that, wouldn't it be great to have a couple of varied contemporary Australian anthologies edited by younger female as well as male poets, or a mix of generational and practice perspectives. And what about an anthology edited out of Australia or NZ that had an international focus on a specific form of poetry but came from here, not out of the north. OK, tell me I'm dreamin.
Monday, October 03, 2011
Plus reviews, and a translation section, co-edited by Sam Ladkin, Robin Purves & Adam Piette.
My poems from a sequence entitled, Senses Working Out, a series of untitled poems which have been appearing all over.
Sunday, October 02, 2011
and if joy arrived
in flicker, DIY laser prancing
there was plenty too much
O summer hoedown
after the party run someone
delivered bitter crust
and for limp dicks, the gaudy
you miss the festering
the gear sings
as it climbs
a small city horn
jump guns, exciters
star blear and goon noise
bring you closer
each crack in the ether
cry cry green lichen
taking mould for comfort
into overcast hollows
back with sandstone night
Friday, September 30, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
on the lam. Maybe I was carted with mimics and homeopaths
to the tune of a trice bawdy ballad as exchange.
Then I was a debtor living in jalopies with some new kickback.
I know I swallowed piranhas, and something more confusing.
After that I didn’t speak about the libertarians for a long time.
The mimics wandered, catcalls were exposed.
When rampage reigned, I'd write in multiples. If they were
bad seeds, I couldn't tell, but they were absorbed.
I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.
There were votes in airships and trampolines, teacake
for dolphins and yogis. I did not lose out though the yields
were all under-reported. If the calories were faulty, it was always
blissful in negative space, and the heavy breathing.
Friday, September 23, 2011
the tinkle on line
the benchmark is
a dumbcluck again
— wrong, it’s a coyote vibraphone
a layette, a kitchen filled with
fireworks and lobbyists
so, avoid the normal, the natural
it's not as if it's a subcommittee
they play, dudes, they play
at the roadblock again among
passersby, robins, leatherette
rampages, the essentials
of the lost, the sum
of being a superstar or
you’ve lost control again
Australian poets include Susan Bradley-Smith, joanne burns, Michelle Cahill, Susan Hampton, Andy Jackson, Kit Kelen, Cath Kenneally, Anthony Lawrence and Peter Minter, and photographers include Cath Phillips and Annette Willis. Ukrainian poets include Serhiy Zhadan, Pavlo Hirnyk, Iryna Shuvalova, Natalka Bilotserkivets, Kateryna Babkina, Vasyl Makhno and Yuri Andrukhovych.
The book is available as a pdf download. It's free, it's easy and it's good.