Archive for September, 2007

i’ve got to be song

‘Generally understood to have arisen as a reaction against the repressive conventions of much established Australian poetry, the generation of ’68 is a literary movement (perhaps a moment) that resists simple definition.’

- Caitlin Punshon

there’s always a v, & a bit less often an e, positioned in the middle of words, making them so much more or less, making them organised or ephemeral. that’s what i’ve found & hopefully i’m not over-generalising – that’s always a grave eror. & that’s generally understood. everywhere & always. what i’m trying to say here, well, it resists simple definition.

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i wish the lamp-switch were in a more convenient place…

this blurb, one of those things
we all know about, i excerpted it
from alison‘s website, it says (in part)
‘it is in the supra-personal realm that these two
most interestingly experimental poets… of the
experimentalists seem to be going. their lyric “I”
is not the often vapid, dull but clever “I” or
lack of it that often prevails in some
curiously passive male poetry… no.’
& it stayed in my mind, as a blob, until
i pasted it here just now, because i think
surely my ‘i’ is often vapid or dull but
also clever, & these qualities, yes, must
be more obvious when i omit said ‘i’, &
eep by golly, i don’t want to be a passive
male however curious (curiously in some unrelated
research (well in some ways thought & such
are always related to all) i read some critic
praise brennan in part for his masculine verse)
oh & another thing i pondered today while
walking around the block, past a house i
used to live in (i always pass it on these
walks (i sometimes imagine going in, observing
the strange creatures living & eating & looking
out windows there)) anyway i realised i love it
(not too strong an expression) when writers
render such lines as ‘wait, what i meant to
say was’, or even the stunningly awkward &
nice ‘um’, because text oozes this quality of
edit, & such phrases indicate one’s willingness
to betray a structured awkwardness / in
decisiveness, i think, & all things now just
making me think of long-beach & pay-roll & the
way tony jones speaks in reality, his eyes
flickering the average rate as he runs the world

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bbb ba ba

someone tried to talk to me about lenin today.

you know who you are.

there was capsicum & zucchini to thickly slice.

instead.

i keep writing last lines of poems.

the lines go ‘& here it is, this last line of
this poem, make what you will of it’.

i am often wearing a red t-shirt when this happens.

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gumi

i’d take a bag of flour in the face
for you i’d snag my heart on the
bottom &/or surface in a mist of
public liabilities to scrawl your
initials on a crusted pylon this is the
way i show affection + my trophyish
status in a land of freaks i’m so cool
i’m miles up a tree above you all &
i’m several times drunk launching
myself off the rocks i’m all things to
you a river & some hyphenated cattle
so love me in aerosol terms don’t
even laugh if i tether my dog to
this plastic afternoon machine

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nutbush

daria the messages say you’re not replying to emails
anymore simply needing the time to wander up hills
scale fences climb a telecommunication tower drink
creek water in a buffeting & shivery wind speak to me
of this concern daria tell me your uncertainties in this
rarefied place we always could talk about things it’s
the same as lacking the time to write & commune
such laughs ha the times go slower than ever the stimuli
crowding out words infinite what the fuck is with that
premise daria i just hate it not only the endless trap
of modernity etc television will never catch on etc
people don’t want their news forced upon them etc but
the fact that your mind is made a hologram to me an
always electric-green light-show based on second-hand
information if i ever got up the sass to spit out a lament
this would be it the subject lost & free-floating the
thought opaque & much more of it would force me
to name you again stitch you up in chaos-theory daria
so

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you have dementia

marty says is he famous somewhere behind
natalie’s right ear & this addendum sours
that afternoon’s televised women’s soccer.
possession is one tenth of the law in this
series of dystopian texts i’m imagining
myself writing says jacob to natalie you
know fantasy is all about getting the rules
right he is saying it directly call it at her nose.
sure there are limits sam is saying while
natalie teases her hair & dandles a champagne
but i just want to get there quicker &
i’m not the only one so i’m buying a V6.
natalie awakes iced over an ornamental
couch through sliding doors a terse sbs
commentary pronounces cycling theory it
says in this context & at this time you love eyes.

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swallow the air

we cooked a bbq for tara & peoples today, & i’ve written some praise for her book in the local rag, so why not here. non-sequiturs aside.

i’ve thought about it a little, & i don’t want to resort to the tired congratulation ‘imagery’. that’s there, but i want to talk about readability. swallow the air is on of those books that is very readable, that keeps you turning the pages, but is not aggressively so. when talking of ‘aggressively readability’ i’m thinking j.k. rowling, dan brown… that sort of thing – these books make you keep turning the pages almost against your will. my god, what will happen next? it makes you feel used. of course it also makes people that don’t read a hell of a lot equate the fast turning of pages & the inability to let a book ferment on the bedside table with good literature. not that there’s anything wrong with that.

but no, tara’s book made me read while also offering me the chance to linger in moments, images, sentences. this is rare & worthwhile. enough said.

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postforming

our cat it
will only eat the ‘loaf style’ whiskas
when we mistakenly buy the liquidy
stuff cat looks at us as if to say
what the fuck is this…

remind yourself of that short blue
shock of recognition of narrative of
meaning when your own birthday pops up
in another context maybe it is the
release date of a new movie something
promising & upright starring zac efron
or maybe it is interestingly the same
date something well-known was invented
like shoelaces or martinis it’s
kinda cool but then less so
as you get further from it

you know?

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i am not an expert

as director of a writers’ centre i now get free stuff. like this thing called ‘novel making software’ (i’ve changed the name of it, to protect the makers…)

it’s pretty dodgy – it’s pixely & doesn’t look great overall, & it’s really just a little database with a crap word-processor inside it.

but anyway, i shall now write a novel. it shall be a mystery / thriller. why not.

one feature is a random character generator. i keep generating characters that can’t sleep at night because they think of things, things like neighbours, or past accidents. every character in my novel will be tired. & obsessive. also loads of important things will happen in the morning. that will make my readers think ‘that’s unusual, things usually happen at night’. yep.

i wowed the 8-strong crowd last night. wish petra luck in the upcoming premier’s award thing.

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to talk of cars

as i drove going swoosh & just fluttering on
the speed-limit a car that was red perched oh
too close to me in our symbiotic transit or
momentum i saw a man looking towards me

once we made stilts with a fun-loving group
of students @ uni they i mean we were reacting
against student groups that form like rabbits
they unite in alcohol & sex-in-the-dark & head-
aches i liked the idea of this fun crisp fun but i’ve
only walked on stilts the once \ we were real people sometimes i still see them walking to places

any man could be one of my enemies &
sure i don’t have enemies but there are people
i don’t like to walk past like there is one guy
he laughs in a vague crescendo as he gets further
away like a remembered event \ the car guy
glints his sunglasses & veers left then right &
for a minute it seems he will pull beside me at
the roundabout \ then what menace in a sidelong look

the baby-on-board sign lies broken next to
a drive-thru brand cup & nothing matters now
so i plan on reading a long & rambling monologue
to a live audience they deserve it

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