Just

July 6, 2010 at 4:21 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, memoirs, poetry, writing | 9 Comments
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walking to West End from Stafford
in a cycle of recrimination and
justification a church sign plastic
letters clipped
neatly
‘to avoid criticism
say nothing
do nothing
be no-one’

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
accompanying me
just the sun dancing
silver sparkling
from the water,
literally
a memory of stars.

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the gentle art of soft landings (podcast)

June 29, 2010 at 7:42 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, jazz poetry, music, podcast | 2 Comments
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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.

Friday Night Karaoke with F.

May 21, 2010 at 7:00 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, ekphrasia, genre isn't dead yet but it should be, performance, writing | 7 Comments
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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

(Albrecht Durer (1471), Henri Rousseau (1844) and Leo Sayer (1948)  share todays birthday May 21st)


“The Poet Busker” CD by Kiersty Boon, a review.

May 17, 2010 at 5:43 am | Posted in contemporary poetry, links, poetry, writing | 5 Comments
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There has been a tendency in the past to think of performance poetry as a separate and somehow less serious or valuable mode of expression than poetry printed on the page. This collection of eighteen poems performed to music puts that idea finally and firmly to rest. It is impossible to disentangle the intelligence from the emotion, the poems from the narrative, the craft and skill in the making from the emotional effect on the audience. It takes the listener on a unique and irresistible journey through a carefully observed, immaculately crafted landscape created through the exercise of a unique imagination on the modern world.

From the joyful celebration of verbal virtuosity that is Tiddly Om…

“Now some scholars may
get quite upstropulous,
if you bling up their
well thumbed thesauruses
with colloquialised
conjured up meaning”

to the fierce strength of a poem like “Fairy Steps”

“The trailer’s being towed for a blowjob on Sunset Strip
by a whore who pays her clients with her husband’s credit card,
While the begging question rolls in with the angry sky,
Just who IS paying for this crap?”

…you will be engaged, entertained and moved.

It is part of the responsibility of the modern poet to create an audience for poetry. This CD is a completely independent production, made using freely available technology and software, yet the production values are indistinguishable from commercially manufactured products. The collection is engaged in reconnecting contemporary poetry with an audience without compromising depth, range or complexity.

With all its intelligence, humour, courage and craft, “The Poet Busker” by Kiersty Boon represents, in so many different ways, the future of poetry.

And you would be foolish not to go and purchase it right now, here.

The Art Of Waiting.

April 10, 2010 at 3:25 pm | Posted in contemporary poetry, poetry, writing | 16 Comments
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The man on the bus is doing a cryptic crossword.
Every now and then he gets stuck and
stares blankly out the window as though
the answer might be there.

The woman next to him is listening to music
on her i-pod. Her eyes are closed and she is
motionless. I am trying to remember a poem
without metaphor and a reason for it.

foam:e

March 23, 2010 at 6:32 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, poetry, writing | 26 Comments
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It is with tremendous pride that I announce the appearance of two of my poems in one of Australia’s oldest and most well-respected on-line poetry journals, Foam:e.

The two poems, “A Small Boy Holding Flowers” and “The Yellow Dress” are two of my favorites and I am glad they found a home in such a beautifully presented collection and in such excellent company. The journal also contains work by Stu Hatton, Jill Jones, Angela Gardner and Derek Motion.

Anyone with an interest in Australian contemporary poetry should pop over and spend an hour or two checking out the work of some of our best poets. (And check out my two poems too, if you care to.)

I have been away from the computer for a while and I am miles behind in my reading and commenting. I apologise for my absence. But I’m back…

sunonheads exit

February 16, 2010 at 7:02 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, poetry, writing | 13 Comments
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sunonhead is always happy
he thinks tummyful by the riverbank
how does he do that then is distracted
by a flash of silver just beneath the surface

somewhere in the world a monk is happy
and his song carries the river forward
follows the shadow of the sparrow
as her hair cascades down mountainsides
and rivers unfurl
into the sea

there she is thinks sunonhead
and slips beneath the silken surface
ripples radiating behind him
and flattening, smoothing into
the surface of the still lake,

(from The Puzzle Box)

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