Poet Laureates of Melbourne!

Thrilled to be in this anthology from City of Literature from all the poet laureates of 2020. So many great poets in this issue.

This, from 2020:

Introducing the Poet Laureates of Melbourne!

Each Saturday for the rest of 2020 we will be documenting this incredible year with the words of a different poet. Melbourne's Poet Laureates will reflect on the here and now, the global and distant, the past and future.

Featuring voices from across what makes us a City of Literature, these poets will bring their distinct vision to your inbox. This particularly unique time in our history demands some equally unique poets to explore, unearth, completely ignore and contextualise.

Days Like These Podcast

Out of nowhere, the lightning bolt struck both of them. A last minute visit to the beach becomes a bigger ordeal than anyone could have imagined, enough to change the course of their lives. But that's not exactly how publishers Kevin and Hannah see things. Especially when they keep getting asked about that day over and over again.

LISTEN HERE.

I was honoured to Talk to Kevin and Hannah for Days Like These, (ABC radio + podcasts) about their experiences when lightning struck and also about what it means to be asked to relive a day again and again (like I was asking them to do). They also speak about Black Pepper and what it means to them. We are lucky to have them in the publishing world.

This piece was a while in the making, can't thank the Days Like These team enough.

Days Like These Podcast

So excited to share the story I’ve been working on for so long— talking to the incredible Tai Snaith about her relationship with her horse Ziffy for the Days Like These podcast. It is a gorgeous story of heartbreak and love. Hope you listen. (Andrew Watson has some amazing sound in this as well).


Can’t thank the ABC team enough, especially Ian Walker, Rachel Fountain, Sophie Townsend, Elizabeth Kulas, Laura McAuliffe and Carey Dell. And Tai ❤️

Photo by Jo Duck supplied by Tai Snaith

Photo by Jo Duck supplied by Tai Snaith

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Talk at the Manchester Literary Festival

My talk with the lovely Kate Feld is here: Manchester Literary Festival.

Earlier this year during the Festival of Libraries, I was lucky enough to be part of the Manchester City of Literature and Manchester Literature Festival virtual writer residency alongside French-American-Hungarian writer and journalist Anna Polonyi. Anna was partnered with Central Library to create a short story while I have been researching in the Portico Library to write a suite of poems. Exploring the books and surrounds of a library in Manchester while I am in the confines of Melbourne was both exciting and challenging so I was grateful to be guided by Portico Library’s librarian and CEO, Dr Thom Keep.

Wanting to capture ‘time-capsules’ of what someone might be reading in the mid-nineteenth century, I was drawn to the science books of the day to better understand how a reader in Manchester would see themselves placed within the greater cosmos. On hearing about the ‘Strangers Books’, two 19th century logbooks discovered by the Portico Library of transitory visitors to the space, I imagined what it would be like to walk into the library, even for a day, and sit down to read a book off their shelves. The ‘Strangers Books’ records are from the 1830s to the 1850s but I wanted to highlight a lengthier period — to the 1880s — so the mix of books I researched covered a span of 70 years. During this time, women were not allowed to be members or even visit but I knew their work was amongst the words of Laplace, Faraday or Maxwell. There were so many books to choose from the rich and essential collection.

A plate from 'The Moon: Considered as a Planet, a World, and a Satellite', 1874 by James Nasmyth & James Carpenter.

Plumwood Journal

My poem ‘Late Summer Crescent Moon’ was published in Plumwood Journal: An Australian and International Journal of Ecopoetry and Ecopoetics.

So many amazing writers in this issue. Well worth reading every single one.

Late Summer Crescent Moon 

Alicia Sometimes

Ukulele sounds swing their way over by early evening
landing on the back deck. Stirred joy of rainbow lorikeets

perch by circle mirrors on the side wall—portholes
into garden oceans reflecting bright flecks of flight

mosaics in the shifting air. You, with a wide-brimmed hat
carving the bamboo as it encroaches upon the lost barbeque

halting for a second to drink a long iced-tea as the sun fades
then eating the plums and camembert on your ornate plate

I venture inside to grab a cool cloth to wipe your forehead
as the crow makes a fuss just because the dog is at his bowl

Patting your brow, you gesture at the broken twigs, evidence
of the brushtail possum living above the frayed trampoline

two slaters, Roley Poleys, dark grey and oval-shaped move
burrowing in the potato peels I put down earlier. These earthy

crustaceans are so small, the temptation to flick them is strong
but I don’t. Snails slide by them in the leaf litter and fungi

their trails—thin threads bridging over to shaded logs
This backyard needs its own encyclopaedia as I trace steps

of all guests. Magpies show off their études—lyrical timbre
of voice echoing across the street into neighbours’ yards

their song not disturbing the skink who was sunbathing
on concrete—his sleek reflexes put on hold while he stirs

Next door, the serene Satin Bowerbird with its purple eyes
gathering seed-pods, string, matchboxes, all to make a home

This side, the magnolia with its large, glossy leaves is towering
—existing well before bees, relying on beetles for pollination

graceful giants outlasting most. Someone close, on their own
partying, raising a glass to the sliver of moon. You join in

lifting your tea cup in empathy—a silent pact with the night
as the overhanging branches frame the buzzing expanse of stars