New Poetry by Donna Williams

When Art Speaks


And art is simply what it is, it speaks directly to the soul.

And yes, it cuts through, with great clarity and simplicity,

And what is left is sadness, realism,

And a void one now must fill,

With all the precious moments that we have in the ticking of the clock.

There is no time for self punishment, for wars, for heirachy or overcomplication.

We 'are' and this is what we have to share,

Our beingness, diverse, quirky, equal,

However anyone else sees it.


- Donna Williams 2006


Donna Williams was born in Australia in 1963 and grew up in the inner city with more labels than a jam jar. Like many people born in the 1960’s and before, she was not diagnosed with Autism until adulthood. As well as being an artist, sculptor, composer and screenwriter, she is also an internationally best-selling author with 9 published books in the field of Autism including four text books and well known public speaker. Her first of four autobiographical works, Nobody Nowhere, sold over half a million copies worldwide. Her first book is currently under option by a Hollywood film company. After 13 years living in the UK she now lives back in Australia with her husband Chris.

New Poetry by Terry McArthur

The Sitting Room


The past is a house of artefacts

I dig them out of rooms so vast

That rivers flow between their walls

Arranging these relics like deckchairs to my seasons



I am alone and naked

Playing an old guitar

Singing lines from songs I cannot recall

But for the flutter of wings upon distant rooftops



I sit and write of life

This passing dream

This track of blood and bones


- Terry McArthur 2006




Who Among You


I hear paper thin breathing

The rasp of my grandfather’s ghost singing

A low and painful scrap of song



See me curled upon this bed

My life become a waiting room

All this hurry to arrive all this hurry to depart

Everyone of us will be

Unravelled

Everyone of us will be

Undone

Perhaps this afternoon

Perhaps tomorrow

Perhaps next year

In the fractured shadows of an unseen dawn

By the handsome hand of an unforgiving god

Who can know the moment

Who among you can foretell an old man’s death

Who among you can hear the thin scrapings of my old man’s breath

Harsh against the pillow


- Terry McArthur 2006




Terry McArthur is a Sydney based poet and songwriter. His poems have appeared in The New England Review, Thylazine, Stylus, The Tin Wash Dish ( ABC Books ) , and Holes In The Evening ( Fat Possum Press). He has published Upland, a selection of poems, with Arthur Chaffey and Wayne Von Nida ( University of New England Press) and The Exile ( Fat Possum Press). Walking Skin, his indy book of poems and lyrics will be published this May.

Terry’s songs have been recorded by John Farnham, James Blundell, Faze Action, and Felicity Urquart. In 2002 Terry formed the cube with his long term musical collaborator Phil Rigger as a way of “pushing the boundaries of spoken word”. The cube have released two singles and one album Permanent Scars which has been released in Australia, France and Germany – and is available at www.thecubeonline.com .

Best Foot Forward

The first seven Poetry and Culture columns written for Three Quarks Daily are now available through the Links section (click on post heading). Topics include irony in contemporary poetry, Federico Fellini and the television series Six Feet Under. Future subjects will cover Wagner, Larkin and Ern Malley.

In the Line of Fire

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

Cordite Poetry Review seeks submissions of poetry for its 24th issue, on the theme of COMMON WEALTH.

Please note the following:

1. Send email submissions only to cordite@cordite.org.au with "Common Wealth" in the subject line;
2. Please send up to five poems;
3. Include a biography;

Read our submission guidelines for further details:

http://www.cordite.org.au/submit.html

SUBMISSIONS FOR THIS ISSUE CLOSE ON MAY 31 2006 .

Our guest poetry editor for this issue is Claire Gaskin.

Thanks to the funding of the Australia Council for the Arts, we are able to offer the following rates of payment for Australian contributors:

POEMS: $60
REVIEWS: $50
FEATURE ARTICLES: $100
AUDIO: $30

Cordite #24 will appear online in July 2006.

Issue #25 (on a theme yet to be announced) will appear online in December 2006.

Bob Goes to America

Coincidence, synchronicity or fate? Just the evening this post-punk boy is caught listening to a bit of Bob Dylan, I receive an email touting a new book by one of Australia's finest poets, Robert Adamson. I mention Bob Dylan because it was their Bob who turned our Bob onto poetry while serving time at Long Bay on what sounds like a pretty spurious charge in the early 60's. The details (with much thanks to another fine Aussie poet, Michael Farrell - post punk to the very core!) follow:

Robert Adamson has a new book with Flood Editions:

To order the book 'The Goldfinches of Baghdad':
http://floodeditions.com/new/index.html

More about Adamson: http://www.robertadamson.com/

For those in the U.S., tour dates follow:

The Australian poet Robert Adamson will be visiting the U.S. this month and
next for the first time, giving readings in support of his new book from
Flood Editions, The Goldfinches of Baghdad. He has long been recognized as
one of Australia's major poets, from his early writing as a poet maudit in
Sydney through twenty books of verse and prose. In more recent work, he has
explored the landscape of the Hawkesbury River, sounding its waters and
wildlife for psychological resonances.

His appearances include:

March 16 (Thursday). 4:30 pm. Reading at Poetry Center at San Francisco
State.

March 19 (Sunday). 2-5 pm. Talks/reading at the Lucid Art Foundation,
Inverness.

March 23 (Thursday). 7:30 pm. Reading at Naropa University, Boulder.
Lincoln Lecture Hall, 2130 Arapahoe Avenue.

March 27 (Monday). Reading at 7:30 pm. Notre Dame, Hospitality Room of
Reckers, South Dining Hall, followed by a reception.

March 30 (Thursday). 5:30 pm. Reading at University of Chicago, Rosenwald
405, 1101 E. 58th Street.

March 31 (Friday). 1:00 pm. Talk at University of Chicago, Rosenwald 405,
1101 E. 58th Street.

April 1 (Saturday). 1:00 pm. Reading at Chicago Poetry Project, downtown
public library, Chicago Author's Room.

April 2 (Sunday). 2:00 pm. Reading at Woodland Pattern Bookcenter,
Milwaukee.

April 6 (Thursday). 4:15 pm. Reading at "&Now" festival, Meyer Auditorium,
Lake Forest College.

April 11 (Tuesday). 4:30 pm. Reading at University of Georgia, Athens.

April 13 (Thursday). 7 pm. Reading at MIT in Boston, Rm 32-141, Stata
CEnter, 32 Vassar Street..

April 18 (Tuesday). Reading at David Rankin's Loft, New York City.

Margie goes Festive

Congrats to Margie Cronin for having her outstanding collection, More or Less Than, shortlisted in the Adelaide Festival Award for Innovation. This is a relatively new award open to "published books which depart from conventional use of genre by borrowing elements from a number of genres such as fiction, non-fiction, biography, autobiography, poetry or cultural criticism." Despite their best efforts, however, the judges have failed to meet their own criteria, Margie's being the only work that seems to come close to fitting the bill. The criteria is not, by the way, particularly innovative, as any Capote fan or avid reader of Victorian novels could tell you, but what the hey! Margie's collection is well overdue for some accolades, as is the seemingly unstoppable author herself, a writer who has copped her fair share of nasty broadsides from they whose sins are multitude and whose one great vice is to teach. And while we're on the subject of dusty old things, it's good to see the Adelaide Festival making every effort to seem like something more than a trade fair.

Via Reggio by Wayne HW Wolfson

One of the delights of running a blog like Bluepepper or a mag like HOMEBREW is encountering the depth of talent out there. A lot of publishers I know say the same, although their trysts are heavily chaperoned by some crone from A&R. I recently published a few pieces by a Californian poet Wayne H Wolfson, impressed by the beautiful lilt in his poetry. I have since managed to get hold of a copy of his first CD, a poem recorded in collaboration with Mars Syndicate, a cleverly textured piece that rewards repeated listenings. Wolfson is a brilliant interpreter of his own poetry, and all in all the production on this CD manages to resist the temptation to bury the text in bangs and whistles. This CD is merely a sampler, but if it is anything to go by, the larger project will be a must for poetry lovers the world over. Click on the post heading to visit the website.

Memory

I am not often late for such urgent appointents. I have no excuses, but none would suffice in the circumstances. The man in question had a big problem with his ears. He was rendered immobile by the weasel word, by the paucity of simple wisdom, empathy, by the big bang of mindless suffering. All were in his sights and we have all been rendered a little less evil because of him.

Perhaps, given long enough, we will make amends.


Big soul. Vale Steve Plunder. 1963-1996

New Poetry by Karen Knight

Draw a Person in the Rain (P-I-R) Test

Who is this person?
Gene Kelly.

How old is he?
At the third stroke, he'll be 42.

What's his favourite thing to do?
To sing in the rain with a broken umbrella.

What's something he does not like?
The sun's electrodes on his head.

Who looks out for him?
The clouds.

Has anyone tried to hurt him?
Only you.



In the Carpark with the doctor's Rolls Royce

I'm delicately poised
on the hood of a Silver Ghost

My Charleston dress
strokes the sharp line
of the hood

the bird in my beading
blushes

my injured wings fold
back into my sides

I'm balancing
on this
chrome-black
night.

I'm a spring loaded mascot.



For a Miracle

I'm waiting
for a bower-bird
to beak-roll
a rough stone
smooth.

For dancing bees
to pollinate
the red
Tarantino flowers.

The eurythmic sun
to give its light
to the seasonal
mad.

For a baby lyre-bird
to mimic
mother tunes
for me.

For the Mormons
to take me
to their ballet
of Christ.

To rap-gargle
Largactil
while trying
to swallow.

For my ill-fitting gown
to tango me
out of here.


- Karen Knight 2006

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BIO

Karen Knight's poetry continues to be published in Australian anthologies, newspapers and literary journals, including Blue Dog, Island and The Best Australian Poems 2005 edited by Les Murray.

Her collections include Singing in the Grain (Walleah Press, 2001) My Mother Has Become (Picaro Press, 2003) and Under the One Granite Roof- poems for Walt Whitman (Pardalote Press, 2004).

Poetry by Jane Williams

Exodus

some will say they have waited an eternity
get out the good silver polished daily
their hope chests spilling over with...
well...well with hope
the word chosen tempting them like never before
others will say it was the last thing they expected
from life
and rising to the occasion like born agains
be the first to admit they always left room
for an each way bet
others will take it in their stride
adapting like a sixth toe
not noticing anything different at all
until someone calls their name
in a mother tongue they never knew was theirs
and suddenly they are running then flying
all the way home
shedding skin after skin as they go


- Jane Williams 2006

Poetry by Wayne HW Wolfson

Chinese New Year


Tonight I want to hear heartache.

I am out of synch, I know. It still may come though. Ah, say something nice. Just for tonight, let the music swell, let me see her.

It still may come.

I buy cigarettes. The sad eyed girl on the corner. When it is not busy she rests, chin in hand. Little melancholy hymns. Only I can appreciate them, but she keeps them all the same.

A series of percussive snaps. Paper mache dragons vomit fireworks onto the crowded street.

Faust’s.

We got drunk and made fun of the singer. A jungle of whiskey heated limbs, we fall asleep forming our own constellation.

Saturday night, the valentine you mean to send, but time weighs it down in your hand.

- Wayne HW Wolfson 2006

Calling all Poets

Come on guys, where are you? The blog is receiving its fair share of visitors, but nary a submission since last year. If you don't start sending me something soon, I'll start posting large segments of my new verse novel. I'm not kidding.......

The Enemy

"No anger inside means no enemy outside."

- Kyabje Zopa Rinpoche

Dark Flame

Many of you from beyond these gilded shores may be wondering what the hell is going on in Sydney at the moment. Well, you're not alone. Yesterday areas of the inner west were no-go areas for "Skips" (people of Anglo-Celtic appearance) as attested to by my friend who says she was kindly escorted back out of Granville by two squad cars while her boss sat next to her re-writing his schedule for the day. This morning I received two pages of hate-fueled bilge in my inbox addressed to the "Sons and Daughters of the ANZACS." Apparently 90 years ago young boys died on the cliffs of Gallipoli so their descendants could prey on the innocent and defenceless. There's only one thing I despise more than a mindless thug, and that's a mindless thug who has to drape his sociopathic tendencies in the flag of this or any other country. Flags are symbols of unity, morons, not some gold pass to a fucking boys club where you have to check your racial credentials at the door. STOP BURNING MY CITY!

I am a very heart-sick poet downunder.

Margie Cronin in Skopje

Yes, you read right. One of Australia's most brilliant and daring poets, MTC Cronin, has just released a collection of new and selected work in both English and Macedonian. I have already eaten up my advance copy and suggest you do likewise. Just click on the "Buy Now" button in the Bluepepper bookshop to the right of your screen for your copy.

American Beauty

I have pasted in a review of an intriguing new work by American poet John Hospodka below. Just click on the Post heading and follow the links to purchase straight from the publisher.


GREETINGS FROM HARDSCRABBLE, CHICAGO
By John Hospodka
Bohemian Pupil Press, 63 Pages

Greetings From Hardscrabble, Chicago embodies not only a time and place but a state of mind. Just the title evokes images of the Chicago’s South Side much the same as Hell’s Kitchen can never be mistaken for anything other than the Manhattan neighborhood that bears that particular name. John Hospodka’s words are much more than brush strokes of personality. He adeptly reaches his hand into the heart and soul of Hardscrabble and delivers us a canvas of prose and poetry that breathes the way art should breathe-- with blood pressure and depth. The “Mr. Man Monologues”, might easily be viewed as a trio of short-short stories but, in reality, they’re a “conversation” between the reader and the book itself. Mr. Hospodka’s subtle crafting subdues the reader just before exciting him. A very nice touch that one discovers well into reading the monologues. Hardscrabble’s centerpiece, “Soliloquy At Hi-Fi” begs to be read, especially with an opening sentence that casually states “A better man couldn’t have killed her.” Hospodka’s blend of tragedy and hope serves as the concrete mix with which he mends the shatter marks of a broken heart.

Hospodka’s scalpel-edge poetry is well worth reading. “The Night They Tore Old Comiskey Down” is a superb visual opening for this book. “Song From Hardscrabble” is heartbreaking while “Hotel Chicago” brings us the Windy City much the way a vintage photograph forever captures a single moment in the life of a neighborhood. The finale, “The Reckoning of a Post-9/11 Bohemian Hardscrabbler” is the perfect ending doubling as the perfect beginning.

Greetings From Hardscrabble, Chicago weighs in at 63 pages but it is the first volume of Hospodka’s South Side Trilogy. John Hospodka’s writing jabs like a Golden Gloves boxer, always keeping you on your feet so you can feel the next punch as it hits.

Reading John Hospodka’s work is reading Chicago


- John A. Mangarella 2004

BOOKSHOP

Bluepepper is setting up a bookshop with an emphasis on self-published works of poetry and titles from small presses. A pay pal link has been posted on the page and I am once again inviting poets and editors to contact me regarding titles they are keen to get out there. I know how difficult it can be and would simply act as a first point of contact. However, anyone who fails to meet their commitments either end will get the full BLUEPEPPER treatment. Just click on the EMAIL ME link to the right of this post.

ADIEU

Thankyou Brian Lara. Not just for accepting some questionable umpiring decisions with all the style and grace the cricketing public has come to expect of you, not just for your magnificent, near-flawless double century in the Adelaide Test brought to a (rare) fifth day conclusion today, but for your even-tempered, wise, magnanimous speech during the closing ceremonies. Why do I love cricket so much? Well.....To watch a man left alone out there against perhaps the greatest bowling attack in history looking for all the world like a child picking flowers for his mother is one thing. But then to hear him speak with such incidental ease of the generosity of Australians, of their boundless mirth and ease with strangers, their fishwife banter in the slips, well, it almost made this blogger feel like the member of some tribe worth knowing. Pure poetry, courage, poise, and dignity. You will be sorely missed on these shores, Brian Lara. I hope the Carribean respects you as much for the man as for the cricketer.

POETS BEWARE

BLUEPEPPER is currently seeking submissions of poetry, reviews and essays on a wide range of literary and cultural topics. Previously published work is acceptable as long as due acknowledgments are made. 3-4 poems per submission and articles no longer than 1500 words. To submit click on the email me icon to the right of this page and paste work in the body of the email. Attachments will not be opened. Payment is a little bluepepper beside your name. Copyright remains with the author.

Closing Time

Being the avid barfly that I am (no, that is not an oxymoron), I find it interesting that just as the "Howard mandate" presses in on civil society from all sides, the licencing hours in NSW have been drastically relaxed. An Aussie version of bread and circuses? Surely you would have to be a little addled to believe the Howard Ministry has really thought through its "beige revolution". The sedition clause in the new anti-terrorism bill is a truly reckless piece of legislation, handing power to the same mindless drones responsible for the ordeals of Ms Rau, Alvarez et al. And from where I sit (on a pay cheque that barely covers the fuel bill down the mountain), the new IR laws place far too much emphasis on qualities not exactly surfeit in the corporate world. I'm talking about empathy, largesse, dignity, honour, all words that clang like Victorian pot-boilers in this shiny happy world willed into existence (ironically enough) by a bunch of men and women probably more at home in Northanger Abbey than the hushed and bristling streets of Howard's End.

All I can urge myself and others to do is to test the new laws, poke and prod at these weasel words transparency flexibility and see whether or not they bite. I figure it's like Pascal's gambit. Either way this government has shown its true colours and who it really represents. All it will take then is for the country to do the same. Poets and writers should all feel revitalised rather than frightened or dispirited. I know I do, and hey, the pubs are open 24/7!