Showing posts from January, 2005

to resume

... the heaviness has lifted, and I hope the headache has flown off for a while. Now, did I say I met Mark and Martin? Indeed, I did. We talked of the things poets do - art and words and history and books and gossip/doings. Mark I met twice. Over lunch then over mineral water in and around my slightly grungy work area. We exchanged books and did the poets' ritual signing. He gave me a copy of Poles Apart, a collaboration with Jukka Pekka Kervinen. Great cover, a piece of moon rock. We had an interesting discussion about books and printing as this one has been done by a firm called which does a print-on-demand thing. Quality is pretty good from what I could see (as she checked the paper, the binding and the cover - typical bloody poet, eh). Of course, the content is pretty damn good as well. Jukka's amazing visual poetic constructions and Mark's terrific sonnets and other movements of words. I love the obsession with Marx - a generational thing, a name thing?

back soon

I've been out of sorts this week (headache ghosting me for days) and so haven't been able to write. But things to say - meetings with Mark Young and Martin Edmond especially. And today/tonight, a lot of running around. Soon, soon. this morning sleepless with birds an old valley

fugitive comfort

surface chips the stone blend the years pitch brush them off flaky skims of rooms shakedown the build when the gauge is wobbly security is the deal blow it away before it blows you hold hands to the wall lick up predicted smoke seasons never forget the change expect the warm rough pink in today’s skin

golden scree

I translate golden whether senseless or move meaning on itself within rows of trees separated by light’s trick adamant with flare and excess sun widens, dislodges plans below galaxies well, I knew this could happen rub the spot and dissolve me douse the scene, burnt hot heavy shining flowers, charred stars in another time place or vista, landscape of temperance porcelain smooth reflections lull afternoon raft plan eats its way into dusk moon hangs cheesily above a house stars, mutterings, crowds angled between us so far extinguished, sky’s dirty plate I clarify with a jab and mop up, faith is in washing sign interrogated, a hunch bending earth doubter under clouds scripting edge down sun does, of each long mile

Kleinzahler for Perth

I've just heard that August Kleinzahler is 'scheduled to attend' Writers’Week in Perth - which runs from 17 to 23 February 2005, and is held as part of the Perth International Arts Festival. As I intend to be there, this is good news. I'm hoping the 'scheduled to attend' eventuates. Here's more information on the festival.

hutted poems

Paul Hardacre announces new poems at hutt . it’s new. it’s a home for poetry. hutt 1.1 luke beesley andy jackson gregory vincent st. thomasino simon hall jaya savige bonny finberg alicia sometimes toh hsien min angela gardner david fujino take a peek! & while you’re at it . . .. hutt 1.2 angela gardner david fujino liam ferney lakey teasdale nick whittock jill jones ian mcbryde vernon frazer michael farrell cyril wong

not luckier than the other

This is from Kathang-Pinay blog , which I came across courtesy of Jean Vengua's Okir blog. "Friday, December 31, 2004 Ok. I'm breaking my silence about blogging on the tsunamis because I just read something that infuriated me. New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg just told New York revelers to take time out to look in the mirror and realize how lucky they are because others are not so lucky. Fuck! This is exactly what is wrong with this civilization. The inability to conceive the "other" as part of one's self. No!No! No! We are not luckier than the devastated people of Asia. We are all part of the same body. This is why I finally turned off the TV and quit listening to the western media's take on this disaster. Instead I hear a Buddhist monk's quiet reflection (via an Asian media outlet): This is tragic, yes; but this is also part of nature and the Lord's will. We will rise again as the people have always done for eons when an event like thi

and haiku

Sharon Bogan , also from PoetryEtc, has also put up a new year haiku at her Watermark site.

new year haiku

stray chatter across ragged twilight backyards laughter in the new year night open last tinkling balcony My good friend (and good poet) Andrew Burke suggested on the Poetryetc list yesterday that somewhere deep in the recesses of his memory he'd heard that there was a tradition of writing a 'positive' haiku on the first day of the year. Check his site as he's been practising, as I have above.

walking into 2005

Today marks the beginning of the second year of Ruby Street. It was one of my resolutions to start a blog last year and I've made it through. Many happies, Ruby! I began the blog with a theme of walking, which has wandered off of late, but I've recently been reading some Japanese poets on the theme. In particular, I have a book called For All My Walking , which presents free verse haiku by Taneda Santoka, as well as excerpts from his diary. Santoka was born in 1882 and died in 1940. He was a bit of a failure in his life, measured by the rules of normalcy. He was an alcoholic, a failed businessman (the family sake business) and then became a Zen priest and spent the rest of his life walking and begging (and drinking), as well as writing haiku. So here are some excerpts: "November 9, 1930. What Fayan said, "Each step is an arrival." Forget about past walking, don't think about future walking; one step, another step, no long ago, no now, no east or west