‘I want’ by Angie Contini
theatre to be thinking and thought to be music and love to be work
Sydney gives you space to breathe
with its up and down hills
and huge liquid ambers
skinny peninsulas
deep deep harbour
anonymity
lost in the crowd
trams that live on
in Australian novels
my generations
in the inner city
a blessing
a curse
the city as it is lived
the Greek kids
four brothers
who built canoes
from corrugated iron
and tar
to sink like a stone
in Rose Bay
the glittering church windows
of John Radecki
Polish great grandpa
nestling like forgotten jewels
in corners of the city
only discovered by us atheists
fifty years later
Mum and Dad snapped in Lee Street
just as it is today
with the old stone wall
the steep slate roof
looking like Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck
in Spellbound
especially as they were doctors
and the shot was in black and white
the excitement of the CBD
all of us walking those streets
different feet
different decades
across 140 years
Uncle Con’s café in George Street
long and narrow
and Con, ex-army cook
frantic at the grill
way down inside
how did he stop customers
from running off without paying?
John Radecki’s stained glass factory
in Dixon Street
near today’s Food World food court
when the buildings were entirely blackened
and grandma toiling to keep it afloat
struggling with her heart condition
and her proud husband
Uncles George and Con
later on
with the fruit barrow
horse-drawn
just outside
the old Anthony Hordern’s building
spinning those paper bags
carrying change in those leather aprons
Auntie Nellie in the Oceanic Café
for 65 years
on the other side of Central Station
Mum on the till
pregnant with me
strange she was taking time off her own work
and 10 years later was working just up the hill
those Poles and those Greeks
the place more like an American city
for us
seemed like we were in the wrong movie
I’ve walked the same street
many times
for decades
living in the village
even if it’s the city
and times before
carefree barefoot summers
on the dirty asphalt
never a shopping street
reminiscent of the barefoot summers
of childhood
on the dusty dirt roads
now paved
that endlessness
of school holidays
and this place
filled with creative lives
when before that was only starting
and then we were just learning
trying to figure out what to do
now it explodes round us
then my faint hope
of having an artistic life
associating with artists
realised on these streets
tucked away in the corners of the village
basement studios
writers in coffee shops
and a street full of live music
since retail died
Jon Anderson in Understanding Cultural Geography: Places and Traces, Routledge, 2015 said: “Places come by their meanings and identities as a result of the complex intersections of culture and context that occur within that specific location.” Local, a fascinating book of poetry by the well-known artist and poet Anna Couani is about place. Place in Couani’s poetry is about Sydney and the Inner City and she has the knowledge, the experiences and the connection to allow us to say that she has a ‘sense of place’. That sense of place not only stems from the poet but also from her parents and grandparents’ experiences, memories and attachments. The poem “Earliest Memories” is a clear example of subjective memories or using the cliché ‘walking in her ancestors’ shoes:
my earliest memories of Glebe my parents’ memories of first meeting at Sydney Uni studying medicine my father recruiting Mum for the Labor Club bastion of progressive politics a heady mix of ideology and romance Mum lived with her sister in as rooming’ house in Arundel Street run by Miss Sherack, the hoarder of Depression era handkerchiefs, men’s underwear and walks common Glebe pastime walk to the city, walk to Paddington walks through the Uni especially my own feet trading the same footpaths 30 years later down all the way to the water
Anna Couani’s artwork illustrates local. Her life as an artist is also married to her poetry, evident in many of her poems. The joy of mixing with other inner-city writers and artists is also apparent in the poetry as is the fact that artists and poets are never too far from politics. The past of the inner city, how it was and how it is, is brought to light … nostalgia? … loss? … anger? is all made clear in the following excerpt from the poem titled “ibis sanctuary”:
the ibis sanctuary was there before the new excavation started and before that there were ugly two-storey flats and before that there were workers’ cottages before that it was an ibis sanctuary
Couani, in her entertaining narrative poetry, sees, reflects, describes, ponders and imagines. Vivid images, poignant lines, and a sense of balance moves the reader from place to place. The poet gives a voice to images. It impressed me how she is able to bring the personal into the poetry without sentimentality. The following poem titled “the flats in Leichhardt Street” illustrates this but also the strength and determination of the writer:
escaped from family trauma dropped out of Uni, age 20 out of 4th year Architecture a soft landing with my gentle partner in hard places finally found the flat with the dark blue lounge room just near the old mansion down in Leichhardt Street that wound down to the water turning off Glebe Point Road exactly where the taxis do a U-turn as I had done three years before driving taxis out of the Red Deluxe depot in Kings Cross
The last poems in the book are titled “ideas for novels” and go from 1 to 10. In these poems the reader enters moments, fragments of time, the land, life and culture. In local Couani gives a voice to images and place, she is an observer, a witness, the reader will be absorbed in her poetry. local is a ‘must read’!
About the reviewer Dr Beatriz Copello is a former member of NSW Writers Centre Management Committee, writes poetry, reviews, fiction and plays. The authors poetry books are: Women Souls and Shadows, Meditations At the Edge of a Dream, Under the Gums Long Shade, and Lo Irrevocable del Halcon (In Spanish), fiction books are A Call to the Star and Forbidden Steps Under the Wisteria. Copello’s poetry has been published in literary journals such as Southerly and Australian Women’s Book Review and in many feminist publications. She has read her poetry at events organised by the Sydney Writers Festival, the NSW Writers Centre, the Multicultural Arts Alliance, Refugee Week Committee, Humboldt University (USA), Ubud (Bali) Writers Festival.
The Apricot & The Lemon Tree
at the edge of the village
come to an oak much older than me
that’s where I’ll seek advice
– Kit Kelen
tenant 1 planted the couple while tenant 2 and 3
nurtured their growth and here I stand, tenant 4
before their arthritic leaves & brittle branches
unlike the owl and the pussycat they are stuck
too close and deep rooted with a stubborn sense
of belonging to a land they’ve failed to interpret
once gardens were ballrooms of sweet & bitter
fruit throughout Melbourne’s Northern yards
expecting Mediterranean weather to migrate
now these replica orchards are starving for genteel
seasons, expecting to be washed with lukewarm
hose each night, even when sky drizzles or sprays
with no strength to stretch their limbs, with no
plump, sun-kissed balls of juice for birds & jam
with no smell for dressed salads or fragrant tagine
they offer a time-warp of cravings & nostalgia
in the back yard, encircled by concrete and brick
ignoring the bottlebrush with its bright red offers
by Angela Costi
inviting Angela Costi
fragments revised from ‘the village is a garden’ at Mesana
Paphos District, Cyprus
and I have something to tell you
which not even I must hear
– Yiannis Ritsos
1
such an honest morning
sun has washed white
what is that tiny bird swings through
under vines in a courtyard glimpse?
it’s an all-day rooster
proclaims from tin shade
tiny lizards
to whom I’ve had no formal introduction
are faster than
call their colour
a breathless hill’s
good for the heart
I go a little way on
at the edge of the village
come to an oak much older than me
that’s where I’ll seek advice
2
the olive
abundance, peace and glory
what lives in the olive
is just this season
a certain flit of feather, fur
say opportunity
wide boll of gnarl
our ages blur
flutter adjustment
in the branches
what lives in the olive
a thirst set aside
light throws itself at us
the old ones
writhe themselves around
all cleft
and strong with standing
like a dare to wait
and taste the fruit
it’s bitter now
but you can have my patience
let the blade be with the branch
let the shape be minded
sing
and leaf
is song too
a hill lives in the olive gnarl
whole skies have gathered
rain fell
let this bark be shot of sun
twig fall to winter fire of night
the tree so many lives
it’s accident and cause we’re here
a wrestle with itself
frozen yoga seems
because we can’t see time
tree’s made of
bend with the breeze
as often laden
think calmly as the tree
3
a picture of the stillness
a gnarl of stump
could be alive
points its all directions
saw my first snake today
dusty black yay long
add this to the list
of those on the way
flies to me gathered
as movement as sweat
do I deny them hope?
surely I will lie down to die?
a breeze lives in the shade
flutter and the tree takes off
I walk like a ghost through this knowledge
nobody knows I am here
4
rising to all occasions
pigeons explode from an ancient tree
this happens now and then
there are other days
over the skysill
other worlds
deep in the heart
Anna Couani is a Sydney writer and visual artist who runs The Shop Gallery in Glebe. Her recent publications of poetry (7 books in all) are Thinking Process, Owl Press 2017 and Small Wonders, Flying Islands Press 2012. She co-produced The Harbour Breathes with photomonteur Peter Lyssiotis. She was involved in the small press with Magic Sam magazine and Sea Cruise Books with Ken Bolton, Red Spark (with Kit Kelen & Mark Roberts) and co-edited various anthologies – Island in the Sun 1 & 2, No Regrets, Hidden Hands and To End all Wars. She edited a chapbook for Cordite called Falling Angels.
She was in the No Regrets Women Writers Workshop for 12 years and was an officer of NSW Poets Union for 10 years, organising readings at New Partz in Newtown, The Performance Space and other venues. She spent her working life teaching art and ESL in secondary schools, mostly in Intensive English Centres where she produced booklets of student writing and visual art and conducted collaborative script writing for plays written and performed by her students.
She has shown her artwork in various group shows at The Shop Gallery with The Pine Street Printmakers.
Links: www.annacouani.com
translations and ink drawings by Debby Sou Vai Keng
In National Library of Australia
Some time ago I was staring through a microscope at a sample of seawater from the Great Barrier Reef. Affixed to the slide, long thin active strands of streaming protoplasm explored this barren and flattened landscape, groping for detritus, microscopic signposts. This new landscape is foreign, less than a millimeter deep and blasted from beneath by a white light as hot as a drowned sun. Tracking the strands, I found their origin, an individual amoeba reaching out from inside an elaborately sculpted shell, hundreds of body-lengths away from the tips of these exploratory strands, called poetically pseudopodia or ‘false feet’. The maligned outsider scientist Sheldrake argues that ‘the sense of being stared at’ is real, and the extended mind behaves like pseudopodia. Not only does light enter our eyes or other senses, but the mind reaches out through them, touching that which is distant, drawing together those objects, people, landscapes, even memories it has explored, generating a vast synthesis, a view of the world that centers on a unique space-time address and connects web-like to all it has touched.
The poems in this book are like that. From the centre of a web of extended mind the poems reach out, like protoplasmic strands, across time and space, touching simultaneously the near and the far, Kochi in India, the arms stretched towards Turkey, between lovers-to-be who stare out at the same eye level from different Sydney buildings, protoplasmic strands delicately touching the past, the personal, familial, political, macroscopic or microscopic, probing the relationship between surfaces, the interior, the exterior, the individual and the collective, between whole cities and the minutia of urban landscapes, extending between cultures, lovers, philosophies, art movements.
Review – Virginia Shepherd Rochford Street Review rochfordstreetreview.com
local concerns itself with the local environment of Glebe, an inner city suburb of Sydney and with other areas of the inner city. Some of the poems were written as part of 366 Poetry Project. It traces the author’s family history and connections to the inner city and also addresses issues of colonisation and the dispossession of indigenous people in Sydney. The book contains 13 artworks by the author.
Chan Lai Kuen (a.k.a. Dead Cat) was born in Hong Kong. She graduated from the Chinese University of Hong Kong with a degree in English, and the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology University (taken in Hong Kong) with a degree in Fine Art. Her book of poetry Were the Singing Cats (《有貓在歌唱》2010) was awarded Recommendation Prize of the 11th Hong Kong Biennial Awards for Chinese Literature. Prose collection Kyoto that Cannot be Reached (《不能抵達的京都》) was published in 2015. Bilingual poetry selection City of Dead Stars is published in 2014. Chan also creates works of visual art.
Nathan Curnow is an award-winning poet, spoken word performer and past editor of literary journal, Going Down Swinging. His books include The Ghost Poetry Project, RADAR, The Right Wrong Notes and The Apocalypse Awards. He has recently taught creative writing at Federation University, and toured Europe in 2018 with loop artist, Geoffrey Williams, performing in Poland and opening the Heidelberg Literature Festival in Germany. He lives in Ballarat and is the current judge of the annual Woorilla Poetry Prize.
Links: nathancurnow.weebly.com
The Right Wrong Notes is a selection of poems from my previous collections: No Other Life But This, The Ghost Poetry Project, and RADAR. Also including some more recent pieces, the collection represents fifteen years of writing about family, fear and love, with Dan Disney describing the poems as ‘suffused with sensuality and sense-making but also, most importantly, generosity’.
It was launched in Ballarat by Robyn Annear, and in Melbourne by Alicia Sometimes.
Cover Shot by Michelle Dunn Photography
In 2015 Nicholafei Chen was undertaking a Masters degree in creative writing at Macau University. He was also providing a range of translation services. Born and raised in Guizhou, Chen is a story hunter, a traveler, a graphic designer, a photographer and, most recently, a cultivator of succulent plants. This is all despite having been told by a fortune teller that he would be a diplomat. in 2015 Fei was a Resident Tutor at Henry Fok Pearl Jubilee Residential College in the University of Macau. (His biography will be updated as more information comes to light.)