Tag: Kate Fagan

December Monthly Blogger – Best Southerly Blogs of 2016

Many thanks to Nic Low for a fantastic month of blogging. To see out 2016, this month we’re featuring some of our most visited blogs posts of the year. We’ll be back in January 2017 with more great blogs and bloggers, beginning with Roanna Gonsalves author of The Permanent Resident.    2016 in review: Luke Beesley, ‘Poets in Cars, An Interview with Nicholas Powell‘ Eileen Chong, ‘Eileen Chong Interviews Eileen Chong‘ Kate Fagan, ‘Into the Interior‘ Liam Ferney, ‘10 outrageous things that happened in poetry in 2015. You won’t believe what number 6 is!‘ Nic Low, ‘The secret history of Australia’s…

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‘Night on our Faces’

Kate Fagan                                                                                                      The day before I crossed the Pacific for Active Aesthetics a new book arrived by post from Berkeley. There it was – The Unfollowing by Lyn Hejinian – a handsome suite of elegiac poems, not quite sonnets, with a bold cover design by Sofie Ramos. I was still…

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‘Such Human-Scale Signatures’

Kate Fagan Here is one “photograph in the brain” from Berkeley. I’m sitting with Pete at the foot of a towering sequoia. The tree is beside a small canal. Students zigzag over a bridge. Every backpack is a house. A man on a bicycle looks like Kit Robinson. The sequoia is a column of quiet, stretching from a subsonic hum in the ground. Actually the tree makes the quiet. I’m saturated in the vertigo of memories arriving before they are made. A crow on the bridge. It’s good, the imperfect drift, the narrative, the backpacks. Leaning on acres of bark…

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‘Written to Music’

Kate Fagan Leave the long fall between us (peak after peak) Here were my paints and there were my powders And then I was drunk and we lost each other My shadow tumbled after Soaking cinnamon leaves in the lake of the moon The roll of the damned drum calls me to duty The dice in the light of the lamp I hear a stone gong I lean full weight on my slender staff Yellow leaves shaken and petals confused to my garden The hard road is written to music – Cedar Sigo, from ‘Panels for the Walls’ in Language     …

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‘Into the Interior’

Kate Fagan Mountain, mountain, mountain, marking time. Each nameless, wall beyond wall, wavering redefinition of horizon. – Denise Levertov, from ‘Into the Interior’ in O Taste and See[i] It takes a long time to write precise things. Mountain, mountain, mountain. This is the only way Levertov can describe what her speaker is thinking and feeling in the poem ‘Into the Interior’. Which interior? And is the observer a guest or stranger there? Each mountain is a marker of time and place. But ‘mountain’ is also an average, a changeable outline imposed on a living system. For a second Levertov’s poem…

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Subject/ed?

by Joshua Mei-Ling Dubrau Perhaps the biggest reason for not knowing if we’re there yet, as discussed in the previous post, is that nobody is quite sure where there actually is. The development of literary modes / –isms / genres / forms tends, on the whole, to be reactive rather than proactive. That is to say, the writer does often work from the starting point of wanting to bring a unique method of expression into the public discourse, but this particularity is generally based on a movement away from a form of expression thought to have lost its currency. There…

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