Twilight Shores (QPF 2015)


On a cliff above a cold, desolate shore, a weather-beaten house perches precariously, peering into the churning sea. At dusk, as the waves roar and sand flays the skin and storm-clouds loom, some might glimpse a light in a high window. Take refuge there, and let its ghosts tell you their stories with the wind that whispers through the walls and the groaning of the ancient timber.

The 2015 Queensland Poetry Festival gave Lina Paul and I the opportunity to join powers again, to create three tales of longing and loss, memory and myth, and the call of the sea. Here is the full performance:

Graveyard Shift


I am the ghost who leaves the lights on,
the doors propped open, the water running—
the murmur from upstairs, the whisper in the vents,
the glitch in the software, the echo on the phone.

My watch shows tomorrow’s date.

I am the bookmark for the day
you can’t get out of bed,
the holding pattern above
the damage from the last big crash,
desiccated leaves still hissing from the shock.

I am chasing the horizon.

Through the window: a red kite
at the moment the wind stops
after covering our tracks with sand,
and the kite’s still hanging like a photograph
when sunset swallows land and sea
and even the sky, stars and all.


mr oCean, September 2012

Review of home{sic} by Julie Beveridge


I was delighted to write this review of Julie Beveridge’s latest chapbook, home{sic}, for Brisbane’s splendid electric street-press, OffStreet, as it’s a collection that really resonated with me.

If you like the sound of it, you can pick yourself a copy via the Another Lost Shark store.

Queensland Poetry Festival Afterglow


Last week, I posted my enthusings about the 2012 Queensland Poetry Festival and being part of it, on the rather new and jolly fabulous arts magazine and events guide, OffStreet. Have a read here, and once you’re finished basking in the shiny of Elleni Toumpas’ photos, check out the rest of the site; it’s a wonderland!

It’s almost here!


The sheer poetic bliss that is the Queensland Poetry Festival – Spoken in One Strange Word – starts tomorrow! For a preview of one of the best weekends of your life, check out the delicious program.



Momentum is building towards next month’s Queensland Poetry Festival. New poems have been written and rewritten, images are being assembled, music is emerging… And you can read an interview with me (by probably the single most influential person in my becoming a spoken word performer) on the QPF web-site. (Thanks again to Maren for the photo!)

It’s going to be an amazing festival. If you’re not in Brisbane, it’s worth travelling to! If you are in Brisbane, no excuses! Most of it is even free.

(yes, I know that’s a bit hard to read, but I’m hoping you’ll check out the web-site anyway. The most important bits: it’s on 24-26 August at the Judith Wright Centre, Brunswick St, Fortitude Valley. Full program on the QPF web site.)

A Splendid Outing in Brisbane


I must briefly express my hearty recommendation of this event from the delightful and inspirational Ruby Fizz Society for Superior People: A Gentlemen’s Tea Party.  Marvellous performances, culinary delights and, rumour has it, parlour games to grant wings to your imagination.  Be sure to book early!

The smell of subtropical rain in gritty streets


I couldn’t tell you whether my defining the sound of Brisbane poetry by Graham Nunn’s voice with Sheish Money’s music is due to the undeniable intrinsic Brisbaneness of it or the fact that he’s the first Brisbane poet I remember hearing. Probably a bit of both. Whatever the case, the recent CD from the duo, The Stillest Hour, carries the scent of my other home across the 15000km between us.

For me, the collection is the night, a sea breeze ushering away the lethargic humid heat of the afternoon, a far-off surge and lapping of waves; that unheard voice that whispers “home” as you leave behind the bright lights and fashion clones, the fighting and the fallen, and cross the river, to watch it from a blanket of green at a safe distance – like a star – then thread home through a frozen tomorrow, cued like clockwork automata waiting for noon to strike.

Last I heard, there weren’t many copies left, but if you would like to pick yourself up one and can’t, do not despair! For there is word of more recorded goodness on the way! And a browse around Another Lost Shark will afford you a couple of tastes to tide you over…