Tags: australian poetry, poetry, writing
The Architecture Of Water, a collection of poetry written and compiled by the late and great Brisbane poet Paul Squires, is now available for purchase.
Paul originally submitted this manuscript to the judges of the 2010 Arts Queensland Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize for an Unpublished Manuscript; the prize, had he been successful, $3000 and a publishing contract with University of Queensland Press. Sadly, Paul died a few weeks after submitting it, but not before indicating that he would like to self-publish it (or possibly an alternate version) if it proved unsuccessful with the judges.
For the many of us who were touched by the beauty and intelligence of Paul’s work, and by his generosity of spirit, The Architecture Of Water will be an essential purchase and the truth of this will be self-evident. For those who are newcomers you might be asking, “Why should I buy this book, and what’s in it for me?” The best answer, I believe, can be found within the archives of this blog – Gingatao, by Paul Squires. Gingatao is, in one word, his ‘masterwork’: it has been archived by The National Library of Australia and described as ‘a work of significance and long term research value.’ To own The Architecture of Water is to hold a particular manifestation of Gingatao in the form of a narrative, or a guided tour if you like; not so much a selection of highlights (though every selection is), but rather an example of just one of the many ways it is possible to grasp Paul’s non-linear work of art in a linear fashion.
The Architecture Of Water can be purchased, in hardcover format only, [here]
Paul’s first book, The Puzzle Box, is available in
Tags: Brisbane, poetry, writing
walking to West End from Stafford
in a cycle of recrimination and
justification a church sign plastic
‘to avoid criticism
hours later a strange misplaced nostalgia
at the sound of a Scottish Marching Band
as it escaped the shadow of the Big Wheel
with a bass drum ponder call to attention
and the rattle of steel carefully orchestrated
On the Art Gallery wall –
‘It’s between representation and the other thing,
whatever that is,
and it’s difficult to keep one’s balance.’
Ian Fairweather, 1963
the year I was born
coincidentally like the young
man’s soft nervous trilling triplets
before the march began, loosening his wrists and
thinking about the architecture of sound.
Lastly the river
a breeze not even birdsong
just the sun dancing
from the water,
a memory of stars.
Tags: Joseph Tawadros, performance, performance art, podcast, poetry
I have podcast the piece below “the gentle art of soft landings’ below this linkage.
I did it in one take with no rehearsal because I wanted to practice live work which I feel kind of fits with the idea of improvisation.
Now I will have to ask Joseph Tawadros for his permission to use the music as a background for the performance. But only if I don’t write a better one for it in the meantime.
Tags: jazz poetry, Joseph Tawadros, Oud, poetry, writing
Suddenly his hands forgotten,
Take one moment to see my work he said breathing dirt
and holding out an open hand tis true one develops
a heart of stone when one sleeps rarely
and only in certain uncouth company, yesterday
a gilded cage
then under bridges
Sketched you in Morocco
standing naked hips tilted,
at the window in the morning
thinking about breakfast.
with a twist on ice, if it’s not too Dean Martin, omerta
principles with an end to occam Picasso was an immaculate
draughtsman before he was a Cubist without
being sweeney practiced my grammar, recap
italising the ‘I’ and using ‘one’ as in one may assume?
between the keeping of secrets and the breaking of promises
insert ocean metaphor here teddy as I explored your consent
to my manipulations of the roots of language and gloried in my power.
remember that car exit bridge alternate endings either way and both shot down
left you standing by that river shivering and her dying
hyannis port, white sails blue horizon,
on the occasion of another passing
found at the centre Matsuo Basho
giggling over a still pond no frogs nor
the sound they make when they land
(written as a first attempt at the National Jazz Writing Competition)
Tags: The Puzzle Box
I would like to take a moment to introduce “The Puzzle Box” 2nd Edition. I was never really happy with the layout and presentation of the first edition, it had a very ‘first edition’ feel. So I employed (and at very reasonable rates I should add) the services of an experienced freelance editor, the inestimable Kiersty Boon. The book is now completely typo free, it has an index, acknowledgements, new font, a stylish cover, frontispiece, is perfect bound and is, in every way, new and improved.
Importantly, the first edition has now been removed from sale, so if you own a copy of it, you are in possession of a rare and valuable asset. However, with the second edition and the application of the incredible style and precision of Ms Boon’s editing expertise, I finally feel that the frame enhances and accentuates the work. If you are preparing a manuscript, a skillful and independent eye is an absolute necessity and I do not hesitate in recommending Kiersty’s services as an editor to all and sundry.
There are many ways of supporting the gentle art of poetry but none more effective and realistic than buying the work of the poets. Please consider this small investment, I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Tags: Albrecht Durer, Henri Rousseau, Leo Sayer
Happy Birthday Albrecht Durer. They tell me you were also prone to crankiness inherent in the precision obsession being such a perceptive mathematician of perspective. We are still enjoying your mass reproduction revolution collapsing the distinction between the low art and the high culture. I would clasp my hands and pray if I still felt that was an appropriate response to soldiers advancing through the mists of time and various other ridiculous apparitions. These days, I measure lines of sight only in decibels. Approximate the distance between the letters involved in, “It’s only typing,
Sillyness, willinilliness, numbers have meaning only in context, “why is it pouring rain”, slamming his glass down on the piano, get some perspective, son, Rousseau had tiggers too and the softness in their eyes as they watch us watch her rise. I’m only typing “the 736 bus will be 14 minutes late again” and I do, remember those blue berets must be on the manifest, oh hey presto, I remember Durer he said, fancy hatted fellow, now count me in,
I looked down at the keyboard and thought one two three four, you make me feel like
Tags: podcast, poetry
I have been enjoying myself at Pool which is a project coordinated by the ABC, Australia’s national broadcaster. They have requested pieces about birds and rivers, so I thought I would podcast a couple of poems, sunonheads exit and The Scrub Turkey. You can hear them at Pool under the link above or here at my podcast site.
It was good practice for my featured performance at Speed Poets this Sunday where I will be doing twelve minutes from memory. Wish me luck!