Joanna Preston: Tasmanaut Poet
Oh lordy. It was about this time last year that I started writing a poem based on another poem, with one eye towards finally having an entry for the Keats-Shelley Poetry Prize (theme this year: gold). Last year my effort ballooned into the monster finally known as “Fare”, and swallowed three months of my life. …
Continue reading "Armitage, Astronauts, and Archibald MacLeish"
for Stewart Had we shelf-space enough, and time, This gluttony, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and read away The afternoons of our love’s long day; You, by the fickle muse’s side Through Poetry stroll; I, in the tide Of Comedians’ Biographies drift. We would Build ourselves an ark of Fantasy, and flood The kitchen-cum-dining …
Continue reading "Tuesday Poem – ‘To His Bibliophilic Wife’"
Wanting to learn this place, this collection of houses and people and lives that I came to willingly, that I chose, open-eyed, and that seemed to even welcome us here with cherry blossom, with the heartbreathless green of new leaf after winter, after wandering lost, that welcomed us with the gentle faith of my own …
Another day, another @#*! earthquake. I was cooking dinner at the time, and let out a shriek, which is not usual for me. I hate hate hate hate hate @#*! earthquakes. But it did have one useful effect – reminded me of an article I’d seen on the Stuff website. It was written by Islay …
The item to which I am referring is that best-of-all-possible gifts, especially for a struggling writer (is there any other kind?) – the Round Tewit. (Repeat it slowly, syllable by syllable, until you get it. Return when you’ve finished groaning.) And it would seem that I have found one. I have finally cleared my desk. …
A Dark Feathered Art 